


It's Complicated

by RoeB



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoeB/pseuds/RoeB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was messy and awkward, but the aim wasn't romance, or even comfort. It was an outlet, and they needed each other like air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the first time

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first time writing for the fandom, but I've been a fan of D/W since their senior debut, so hopefully I'll be able to do this justice and add to the lovely collection you guys have already :) And yeah, this is going to be a little smutty. Nothing overly graphic, but yeah....sex. Fun, eh? Please read and review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction. People, events, places, etc are all fictional and not intended to portray reality.

"Charlie, you've been skating with Meryl for 17 years. You've won a gold medal together. You've spent the majority of your life together. So, how do you describe your relationship?" The reporter asked, shoving her microphone into Charlie's hand.

As if all the complexities of 17 years could be explained in a soundbite.

The hot lights of the TV studio were almost blinding, and he could practically feel thousands of eyes looking at him and Meryl through the cameras. But he was an ice dancer, and was used to performing in front of and being scrutinized by an audience. This was just another performance; he wasn't about to break.

He looked to Meryl, who was sitting next to him, smiling slightly, hands folded primly in her lap. She tilted her head imperceptibly, signalling for him to go ahead and give their usual, vague reply.

They had discussed their answer to this question before: talk about respect and work ethic. Talk about personal responsibility and matching goals. The world didn't need to know about the complexities of their relationship. They didn't need to know that Meryl and Charlie didn't even know what to call it, only that it was _good._ And they certainly didn't need to know just how close they were, and how much they were willing to do for each other.

He looked straight at the reporter and grinned. "In a word? Complicated."

 

* * *

 The first time they did it was at their last Junior Grand Prix Final before Meryl turned 19. 

They hadn't done as well as they would have liked in their compulsory dance. After a stumble in the twizzles and mismatched footwork, they were in 6th place. They knew they had a shot at the podium as long as they performed perfectly in their other two dances. The pressure was starting to get to both of them.  Igor sent them to bed early, but Charlie stayed in Meryl's room, pacing and rehashing the day's skate in his mind, kicking himself for the botched twizzles. Meryl sat on the bed and watched him, wringing her hands and restraining herself from comforting him the way she wanted to.

There had always been that invisible line between them which they were careful not to cross. Oh, they wanted to, and they both would lie awake at night, trying not to think of the other and what it meant that they had to try so hard to suppress those urges. It only got worse at competitions, when they were both tense and slightly agitated, and the only outlet they had was each other.

This was how it always went; they would get yelled at by their coach, coddled by their mothers, and then stew in their own tension all night, bottling in their frustration. That night, however, they reached their boiling points. Charlie was frustrated, and Meryl was stressed, and when their eyes met, it was all passion and heat, and no more thinking was required. They needed this, whatever this turned out to be.

He stopped pacing and stood in front of her, his eyes searching hers, asking for something--anything. The corner of her mouth quirked and she shyly, slowly, curved her foot around his ankle. A silent understanding passed between them, and he pinned her to the bed, his lips crashing into hers.

She responded immediately, wrapping her legs around his hips and opening her mouth to his. Their lips were chapped and uncoordinated, and their tongues twisted messily in their mouths; it wasn't perfect, but they weren't going for perfect. He sucked at the juncture of her neck, nibbling and laving the skin with his tongue. She tasted like salt and cheap hotel soap, and it was familiar; in that moment, that was all he wanted.

Charlie dragged her sweater up and over her head and unclasped her bra, while Meryl helped divest him of his own shirt. Her fingers were trembling, and she yanked at his hair, pulling him back down to kiss her, everywhere. He kneaded her small breasts, and bent to take a tip into his mouth, but she tugged at him impatiently, grinding her hips up against him, making him groan. Gone was Meryl, the shining example of patience and reason; she was just as agitated and wired as he was, desperately fumbling for anything to take off the edge.

"Have you ever...?" He managed, trying to maintain some modicum of rationality amid the fog.

"No and neither have you." She breathed, reaching up to kiss him again while simultaneously trying to peel off her own jeans.

"Should we be doing this?"

"God, yes. Help me."

He helped her pull off her jeans, and quickly took off his own while she shucked her underwear, leaving her completely naked on the bed. No more words were required. He pulled out a condom he'd (thankfully) started carrying weeks ago in his wallet.Neither had much time for dating, and so neither was very much experienced with this sweaty tangling of legs and bumping of elbows. He had sunk into her and she scratched his back and gave him an annoyed look because " _ow."_ It was messy and awkward, but the aim wasn't romance, or even comfort. It was an outlet, and they needed each other like air. She grabbed his hand and showed him how to use his fingers, and somehow (miraculously) he was able to make her find release before he did, moments later.

They settled back into bed beside each other, hot and breathing heavily, but the frustration and the anxiety had melted away. They had acted on their impulses and hormonal urges, and not given thought to the consequences of their actions. For once in their lives, they had acted irresponsibly and without thought, and it felt _good._ It could ruin them, but it could also open new doors to aspects of their partnership each had been too hesitant to explore. Charlie took Meryl's hand, and she let him, turning her head slightly to meet his eyes.

"I don't regret it." He said quietly.

"Me neither." She answered, and squeezed his hand tighter.

"It's just an outlet--"

"Stress relief. We needed that." She reasoned, and he nodded.

"We did."

They lay in silence for a little while longer, staring at the ceiling fan and taking turns squeezing the other's hand. Charlie didn't want anything to jeopardize their partnership, but he also didn't want to give up whatever _this_ could be. And like Meryl said, it was just a way to relieve tension; it didn't mean they were in love, _right?_ They were just two friends, helping each other out in an unorthodox way. Perhaps it wasn't any different than hiring a sports psychologist or doing those team-building exercises.

"And it's good that--I'm glad you were the first." She said, and moved so she was curled up next to him, pulling the sheets up over her chest. He wrapped his arm around her and just enjoyed the feeling of her bare skin against his.

Meryl had had boyfriends before, and he had dated a few girls as well, but a part of him always knew that his first time would have to be with Meryl, because _who else?_

"Yeah...me too."

"This doesn't have to be a one-time thing. We can do this and...and nothing has to change." She whispered, and he knew she was on the same page as him, as always.

"Nothing will."

The next day, they performed their original dance the best they'd ever done it. The day after that, they danced their free program perfectly and ran away with the silver medal. Their parents and coaches wanted to know what had changed, and Meryl gave him her little nod, and Charlie shrugged.

"We just learned to manage our stress."

* * *

Their unspoken rules were few, but important. They only had sex at competitions, when they had rooms to themselves or their roommates were out. They had to _talk_ about their anxieties before settling them physically. After that first night, they resolved to not spend the night together again; they would sleep in their own rooms, so as not to raise suspicions. They were  _not_ a couple, and they would not act like a couple. And most importantly, no one could know.

And it worked. While other teams were simmering in unresolved sexual tension, Meryl and Charlie freely expressed their desires and pent-up frustration in what they thought was a healthy way.

 _It means nothing,_ Charlie thought, as he figured out how to make her sigh and moan his name, and pretended that he didn't _live_ for moments like these. It meant nothing that he knew her body better than anyone else in the world, and learned to play it like his violin. It meant nothing that he dreamed about her during the off season--ached for her--and had to restrain himself from jumping her at their first competitions of the year.

It meant nothing, until it meant everything.


	2. Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the first two chaps already written, so I figured I'd just post this one as well. Hope you like it!  
> Work of fiction, not meant to depict reality, etc.

Charlie wasn't typically one to stress out about school; that was a _Meryl_ thing to do. She was the one who weighed down her suitcases with books while they were away competing, and would squeeze in extra studying during breaks at the rink. Charlie wasn't a total slacker--he had gotten into the gifted program at grade school, after all--but he was wont to procrastinate every now and then. It had served him well enough through high school and the first year at U of M, but the first semester of his second year was proving to be a whole different beast.

"An Anthro test, a lab report for Bio, a History paper, and a poetry explication." Charlie listed, talking to Meryl on the phone. "All due this week. Mer, I'm screwed. I should never have signed up for all these classes."

Meryl stayed calm on the other end of the line, having probably already completed all of her assignments up to December. "No, probably not. But relax. You just need to prioritize, divide up the work into manageable chunks, and keep yourself focused."

Charlie groaned and fell back onto his bed, keeping the phone cradled beneath his ear. "I don't know how to do _any of that_ , Mer!"

"Charlie White, if you can throw me around your shoulders while balancing on knives, I'm pretty sure you can manage to multitask." She said, and he laughed.

"Well, maybe if I had a taskmaster..." He trailed off, hoping she'd understand his hint. She did, and he could hear the jangling of keys in the background. "You're coming, aren't you? _You're amazing."_

"I know. I'll be there in 10. You better have mac and cheese waiting for me."

* * *

"Why did you even sign up for a poetry class? You don't _get_ poetry." Meryl said between spoonfuls of mac and cheese, sitting cross-legged on his bed. She was looking over his assignment sheets and chuckling to herself, shaking her head while Charlie just got more and more anxious.

"It's a general education class. It was either poetry, or pottery. I think I'm going to write about Robert Lowell."

She snorted, and flipped through his poetry anthology, glancing at the pages he had dog-eared. "No, do Elizabeth Bishop. She was really interesting, and you'll just like her work better. I mean, Lowell would probably tell you to write about Bishop. He was in love with her."

"Yeah? How'd that work out?"

"Well she and her girlfriend were very happy together in Brazil, so..."

"Ah, ok. Bishop it is. So should I do this now or--" He asked, picking up the anthology distastefully. 

"No, you hate poetry. Start with your history paper, the one on the Soviet Union, right? It's only six pages, and you know the topic well." She suggested, and hopped off his bed.

"Does Evan still keep his 'hidden' stash of cookies above the fridge?" She asked, and Charlie nodded.

"Good. He owes me a favor anyway."

While Meryl left to go "borrow" his housemate's cookies, Charlie cracked open his laptop and started outlining his history paper. Starting with the Soviet paper was the logical choice, but sometimes he felt like the reasoning, logical part of his brain had stopped developing a long time ago once Meryl became a fixture in his life. Meryl was the left brain, and he was the right; she picked up where he left off. He needed her to keep him on track and organized, and he was her emotional support, making sure she didn't obsess over little things. Perhaps that level of codependency wasn't healthy, but for them, for now, it worked.

"Do you remember the last time we had Oreos? Because I don't." Meryl said, returning to the room with a box of Oreo cookies.

Charlie licked his lips and held his hands out. "Marina would kill us. Gimme."

Meryl smirked and held the box against her chest. "Finish your outline first, and then I'll give you a cookie."

Charlie scowled, but had to admit it was a good idea to keep him focused. He had invited her over to be his taskmaster, and that was exactly what she was doing.

"Are you sure you don't have something you're supposed to be doing?" He asked, as she perused his bookshelf.

"You mean staying home and reading? I might as well do that here and make sure you don't flunk out of college." She teased, ruffling his messy mop of curls. 

* * *

 

Charlie had finished his outline and started the first two paragraphs of his paper before getting stuck. Meryl suggested he review his notes, which he did, spreading them out over the desk.

Meryl had found his well-worn copy of _The Silmarillion_ , and was curled up on his bed, her cardigan removed. Charlie eyed her bare arms in the tank top, but forced his attention to the matter at hand. It was only 3pm, but he was already tired, and wanted to curl up next to her on the bed. She walked up behind him, placing her hand on his shoulders and leaning over to look at his work, her breath hot against his neck.

Scratch that. He wanted to do all sorts of _other things_ with her on the bed.

"Aren't you going to talk about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact? You can't have a paper about the Soviet invasion of Poland without that." She murmured, and Charlie wanted to know if it was really necessary for her to be talking so softly, so close to him.

Her long hair cascaded over his shoulder, and he struggled to keep his eyes glued to his notes, which were starting to look hazy and jumbled.

"I...um, I was going to focus more on the military actions. The, uh...Gleiwitz Incident and the British...something about the British..." He stammered, his eyes finally shifting to stare at the sharp angles of her collarbone, and her soft skin taut over her toned arms.

"The British-Polish Pact of Mutual Assistance?" She asked, unknowingly managing to make Cold War era politics sound incredibly alluring. Charlie counted down the days until their next competition: 17. Too long.

He swallowed and nodded "Yeah. That's the one." He said, his voice cracking.

Meryl laughed and placed her hand on his desk, and he immediately took it, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her fingers and then her wrist, feeling her pulse beat rapidly. Meryl's other hand clenched tighter on his shoulder, but she stayed frozen on the spot. 

"Charlie..." She said softly, neither an admonition nor encouragement.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged his fingers underneath her tank top, splaying over the soft, warm skin. With a quick tug, she was in his lap, and she shifted herself so that she was straddling him, arms around his neck and her nose brushing against his cheek. It had been too long since they were last able to do this, and Charlie knew that this was breaking their rules by not being at a competition. But he _was_ stressed, and God, he needed her.

"Is this ok?" He asked, his lips lingering at the corner of her mouth.

She hesitated, and he knew she was weighing the outcomes in her head, debating whether this was worth it, whether _he_ was worth it.

"Yes." She finally whispered, pressing her lips to his and letting him deepen the kiss.

Kissing her always felt like home, and he reveled in the taste of her mouth, open and yielding to his. He broke away to trail his lips and teeth down her throat, leaving behind goosebumps and bruises that would need to be covered with makeup and scarves the next day. She gasped and tugged at the hem of his shirt, yanking it off and running her hands across his chest and over his biceps.

Charlie tightened his grip on her hips and stood up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The room was spinning--or maybe that was just them--and he ended up pinning her back against the wall as she threw her tank top to the floor and reclaimed his mouth hungrily. She was grinding her hips against his and he was very close to losing whatever control he had left. He struggled to remove her jeans without breaking contact, and his elbow accidentally knocked a picture frame off the wall. They froze, and Meryl drew away, gasping and shaking her head. He already knew what she was going to say.

"We can't." She whispered, and leaned her forehead against his.

Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky inhale. "I know." He said, and gently let her down.

Meryl kept her arms around his neck a moment longer before kissing his cheek and stepping away. She turned away from him, picking up her tank top and slipping it back over her head. She tossed him his shirt and he clutched it in his hands, but didn't put it on, the room suddenly feeling incredibly warm.

"Meryl..."

"We have _rules."_ She said quietly, putting her cardigan back on as well and sitting on the edge of the bed. "We can't make this more than it is. Our _partnership..."_

Charlie thought it best to keep his distance for now, and stayed leaning against the wall. "I know, I'm sorry. The partnership comes first. I just got carried away."

"We both did. And that's fine. You were...stressed. I wanted to help. That's all." She said, looking down at her hands and flushing pink.

"Right, stress. That's all." He agreed, trying to convince himself that it wasn't anything more.

But the truth was, what had started out as an easy way to blow off steam was starting to become an addiction, an ache in the pit of his stomach when he couldn't allow himself to touch her like he wanted to. It wasn't healthy, and he knew it. This whole arrangement was a trainwreck waiting to happen, but he was too mesmerized to move out of the way, in the off chance that something good could come of it.

"Do you want to, uh...take a cold shower or something?" Meryl said, scratching the back of her neck and suddenly growing shy.

"No, I'll be--I'm fine. I just need to focus on something."

"Your essay." She offered, and he nodded.

"Right. The essay. Where were we?"

"Poland."

"Right."


	3. all for something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut with substance! Happy DWTS Day! This is kind of sad, so I apologize in advance... Thank you to everyone who has left such nice reviews so far! It means a lot :)
> 
> Still fiction. Not real. Still.

**2007**

Losing was always rough, but being a whole five points off the podium at Skate America was even worse. Eleanor Rigby was the first program that both he and Meryl had truly fallen in love with, and they had worked harder than they ever had before to create a medal-winning program. Apparently, the judges disagreed and situated them firmly in fourth place while Tanith and Ben ran away with gold. The same thing had happened all last year as well; they were a young team with a different style and aesthetic, and the judges just didn't know what to do with them. Charlie wondered if he and Meryl would always be in Tanith and Ben's shadow, forever America's _second best_ team.

Marina and Igor were muttering to each other in Russian as they walked out of the kiss & cry, and Charlie recognized a few words that were becoming fixtures in his limited Russian lexicon: _unfair_ _. robbed. underscored._ Beside him, Meryl was clenching her teeth and staring straight ahead. Their coaches had taught them to never complain about their scores or outwardly seem disappointed while still in public, but it was difficult to hide their frustration. Charlie reached to grab Meryl's hand as they left the concourse, and she squeezed his fingers once, hard, before letting go and crossing her arms over her chest.

Marina and Igor assured them that they were proud of the way they skated, and shooed them off to the hotel so they get some rest. It was a five minute walk from the arena to the hotel, and Charlie and Meryl walked the whole way in silence. As they entered the hotel, Meryl applied chapstick to her dry and cracking lips, which he had watched her bite until they bled in the kiss & cry.

Was it wrong that he was also just a little excited?

Charlie hated losing, and he hated watching Meryl beat herself up for factors outside her control, but a part of him counted down the minutes until he could have Meryl in his arms again. Except this time, she wasn't just tense and anxious; she was angry, and he wasn't sure whether he should be worried or eager.

They got into the elevator and Charlie pushed their floor number several times, already antsy. Meryl clutched the metal railing behind her and pursed her lips, looking up at the ceiling. He was dying to say something, dying to touch her, but he had to wait until they were in his hotel room; that was the rule. She didn't even bother to start unzipping her winter coat. Finally, she glanced at him, her pupils almost engulfing her irises, and Charlie could have sworn the temperature jumped 10 degrees. She opened her mouth to say something and cocked her head, a glimmer of something new in her eyes, something vulnerable, but she looked away and the moment was lost.

Whatever game they were playing at, Meryl was winning. Outside of strange hotel rooms in strange cities, she could switch those feelings off. Charlie couldn't. There was no _off button_ for wanting Meryl. He was only allowed to act on it during competitions, when they were away from home and the strict structures that kept their lives in order.

The elevator stopped on their floor, and they walked down the empty hall together, maintaining their silence. Meryl swept her hair over one shoulder, and Charlie stared at the slight discoloration on her neck. She had sweated off the heavy performance makeup, and he could now clearly see the mark he had left on her skin the previous night. He gulped and looked away, reaching into his pocket for his keycard as they neared his room. He noticed her hands were shaking.

As soon as he unlocked the door and entered the room, Meryl had him pinned to the door, crashing her lips onto his and yanking his jacket off. He sighed into her mouth, finally finding the comfort he had been looking for all day. He wanted to enjoy the moment, and tried to still her fumbling hands, but she nipped his lip sharply and practically ripped the buttons off his shirt as she made quick work in undressing him. She was a flurry of hands and lips, clawing at his bare skin and swallowing his groans. Meryl had never had a problem with asthma, but Charlie was starting to worry at the heaviness of her breathing and the rapid beat of her heart against his hand.

He moved to slowly unzip her jacket, but she pushed his hand away and did it herself, and pulled her shirt over her head as well. Meryl stepped away to shimmy out of her leggings, and Charlie placed a careful hand on her shoulder.

"We need to talk." He said, reminding her of their promise to always discuss their problems before sex.

She glared at him and dropped to her knees, quickly pulling his jeans down and reaching for his boxers. Charlie's heartbeat quickened, but he grabbed her hand and yanked her up.

"Meryl--" He started, and groaned when Meryl knotted her fingers in his hair and started sucking at his pulse, gently nipping at the skin with her teeth. After all this time, she must have been well aware that he was simply putty in her hands when they got like this; she could do whatever she wanted to him, and he would probably still beg for more.

She pushed him backwards onto the bed and climbed on top of him, kissing down his jaw to his throat and then to his chest, moving systematically down his body. He desperately wanted to touch her, but she was moving too fast, too frantically to get a proper grip on her.

"Slow down." He murmured, reaching for her, but she ignored him and bit at his hipbone, her breath coming fast and hot against his skin.

She started to tug at his boxers and he saw that the shaking in her hands had gotten worse, and her eyes were hazy and unfocused.

"Mer. Meryl. _Slow down._ " He said again, finally cupping her face and bringing her to look at him.

He recognized the dazed, watery look in her eyes and the shaking hands and her lips, just now starting to tremble...his heart sank. She was going to cry. She hovered over him, still trying to catch her breath, and he watched silently as her defenses broke and tears started to well in the corner of her eyes.

"Why do we even try?" She asked softly, her voice cracking as tears fell onto Charlie's cheek. "No matter how hard we work, it doesn't matter because the judges have already made up their minds. None of it matters!"

This was the first time in years that he had seen Meryl cry, and it made his stomach twist. He immediately pulled her down onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly as her body shuddered with silent sobs. He had known that this loss would hit Meryl hard, but he was unprepared for her to internalize it so deeply. Charlie rubbed her back, kissing her cheeks and trying to help her calm down.

"I know, Meryl. It's ok, I know." He said _._ "It makes me mad too."

"Why do we even try if it doesn't matter?" She asked again, muffled and wet against his neck.

Why indeed? He gets up before the sun rises and returns home after it's already set, practicing until his muscles ache and cramp, with the woman he's probably in love with but can't _say anything to_ in case it ruins their partnership. And there's always, _always_ the chance that all of it will be for nothing. But he does it anyway, because what other choice does he have?

"We try on the off-chance that one day it _will_ matter." He finally answered. "Today sucked, and we should have gotten third, but we didn't. And we just have to keep working our asses off, like we always do, because that's all we _can_ do. And God knows I love this crazy fucking sport..."

God knows he loved her.

"Me too. This crazy fucking sport..." She whispered, and he laughed softly at her cursing.

They lay there for a little longer, with Charlie rubbing her back and stroking her hair until her breathing steadied. Meryl tilted her face up, and Charlie kissed her lips gently, nudging them open. She kissed him back slowly, and Charlie would have been content to lie on the bed, kissing her all night, but Meryl had other plans.

"Are we done talking yet?" She whispered, dragging her lips down across his jaw.

He grinned and kissed her fully on the mouth once more before flipping them over so he hovered above her. She smiled up at him, her eyes only faintly red from crying.

"Touch me. Please." She begged.

Charlie obliged gratefully, lifting her slightly so he could unclasp her bra and slip it off. He bent to cover a breast with his mouth, sucking one and then the other until she gasped and pulled at his hair, dragging him back up to kiss her again. She kicked her underwear off and struggled to pull off his as well without breaking the kiss. Soon they were both naked and he was easing into her. Meryl sighed into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist. It was slow and measured, and his hands cupped her face, watching as she slowly started to fall apart at the seams, screwing her eyes shut.

It would be another three weeks before their next event, and Charlie needed to make this last. He memorized the sounds she was making, and the look on her face when he brought her closer and closer, and then stopped, having learned exactly how to keep her coasting on that precipice until she pleaded for him to push her over the edge.

"Charlie. Please, Charlie..." She whimpered, wriggling and thrusting her hips while Charlie stalled, trailing his fingers lightly up and down her abdomen, suckling at her neck as her fingernails scratched at his back.

"Oh God, Charlie please. Fuck, I'm close." She babbled, and he finally moved, slowly at first and then picking up speed as her voice got breathier and higher-pitched. He slipped a nipple into his mouth and she keened, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

He considered stopping once more, but figured that would be cruel for both of them, and swiftly brought them to release, Meryl gasping and shaking in his arms. He collapsed next to her, and she rested her head on his chest, over his rapidly thumping heart. He heard her chuckle softly.

"We're really good at talking through our problems." She said breathlessly, and he laughed.

"The best."

"I wish I had something like this in real life." She said, and he froze, tightening his grip on her.

"This is real life, Mer." He assured her, and she turned to him and smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I know that. I mean, the real world. Outside of competitions and skating. I wish I could just do this every time things got hard or I got upset, and everything would be better."

"What's stopping you?" He asked quietly, planting a soft kiss against her temple.

"Good sex can't solve the world's problems, Charlie." She said dryly.

"What about really, really good sex?"

She laughed and he loved the feeling of it against his chest. "Maybe. What time is it?"

Charlie groaned and looked down at his watch. "10:15. You don't have to leave."

He hated it when she left.

"Yes I do. You need to sleep." She said, untangling herself from him and sitting up at the edge of the bed.

"I'd sleep better with you." He murmured, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her shoulder.

But Meryl had already flipped the switch, and was ready to return to _real life._ "I'll meet you downstairs for breakfast at 8 tomorrow, alright? And it's going to rain in the morning, so don't wear your Northface." She said, gathering up her clothes and quickly getting dressed.

He watched as she wiped away her smudged eyeliner in the mirror and for a moment, she met his eyes and smiled sadly.  Once again, she looked like she was going to say something, but instead she took a deep breath and looked away. She didn't meet his eyes as she bent down to kiss his forehead, and he restrained himself from reaching out and taking her hand, making her stay. If he asked, if he really begged, she would stay. She would do anything for him if he really wanted it, just as he would for her. And right now, she wanted to leave, so he let her.

This was always the worst part, the aftermath. She would pretend it never happened, acting as if they had just been having a friendly chat, and not making love. That was another thing; she refused to call it _making love._ It was sex, or fucking, or screwing around, or any number of crude, cold terms that didn't describe what it meant to Charlie.

But that didn't matter, because _it meant nothing._ Or at least, it was supposed to. Once she left, he slowly got dressed for bed, repeating the mantra in his head.

_It means nothing. It means nothing._

And Meryl...Meryl was an enigma. After so many years together, he never thought he'd be able to say that, but as they grew closer he was made distinctly aware of just how much she kept from him. When her eyes locked onto his in the mirror, he could have sworn he saw something resembling longing or even love, but perhaps he only saw what he was so desperate to see.

He sat back down on the bed, and the sheets smelled like her. Charlie wanted to cry.

He couldn't fool himself anymore; this was killing him, but he wasn't about to do anything about it. Charlie wanted her, all of her, and not just for the dozen or so times he had her during the season. He wanted everything, but he was prepared to take what little he could get.

Charlie would continue this charade and give Meryl what she needed: space, intimacy, understanding...whatever she wanted. He was all too willing to give, and to take what she gave him in return. It hurt, but he held out hope on the off-chance that one day, it would all mean something.


	4. sunshine she's here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, smut and angst just work so well together... And now I think I know why I'm writing this in Charlie's perspective; writing from Meryl's would just be too heartbreaking.  
> Thank you so much for reading, guys. :)
> 
> work of fiction, not real, etc.

**2008**

Meryl and Charlie had their rules and for the most part, they stuck with them. However, they failed to specify what should happen in case either was in a relationship. So far, their relationships were few--Charlie could count them on one hand between the two of them--and never seemed to make it to the competitive season. As soon as August ended, so did the dating. There wasn't any hard and fast rule about it, and Charlie didn't think they did it consciously at first, but it went without saying; from September to March, they had each other to themselves.

So when Meryl started seeing a guy from one of her summer school classes, Eric, Charlie didn't sweat it. He was a non-skater and hardly ever came by the rink, so Charlie didn't have to see him all that often. Meryl brought him to the Arctic Edge 4th of July picnic, and Charlie even tossed a frisbee around with him. Eric was nice to a fault, and annoyingly polite, but he was good to Meryl and respected her partnership with Charlie, and that was all that mattered.

Otherwise, everything was basically the same. They still joked around and flirted innocently, and she never brought up Eric's name during their practices. Meryl appeared to be happy, and while it stung to see her climb into Eric's car and kiss him after practice, Charlie knew that lover boy would be dumped by September, and Charlie would have her, at least part of her, for the rest of the season.

But then August came and went, and Meryl was still giggling on the phone with him during lunch breaks, making plans for the weekend. For the first time, Meryl was willing to enter a serious relationship, and Charlie didn't get it. Dating during competition season was rough when the significant other wasn't a skater _,_ and he couldn't imagine how nice, _boring_ Eric could be worth the trouble.

Charlie wanted her to be happy--really, he did--but what was going to happen come their first competition? They had a _routine_ and Meryl was a creature of habit, but surely she wouldn't cheat on her boyfriend.

And yet, a part of him hoped she would.

He knew it wasn't right and he knew he had no claim on her, but he couldn't help resent this interloper who was threatening the delicate balance he and Meryl had worked so hard to preserve. Their first Grand Prix--Skate Canada--was approaching, and Charlie was getting antsy. He didn't know where he stood with her, and he hardly felt like he could broach the subject.

He figured he'd wait and see; maybe Meryl would decide she and Eric weren't so serious after all and slip into Charlie's hotel room like usual, or maybe she wouldn't. Either way, Charlie would be there, as always.

* * *

 

After their compulsory dance--typically their worst event--Meryl and Charlie were already sitting comfortably in first place; a big step up from last year's showing. Meryl was practically skipping down the concourse with him, swinging their clasped hands between them. It had been a while since she had seemed this alive and joyful, and Charlie was content to just bask in the glow.

"That was good. Like, _really good._ We beat the French and the _Russians._ Charlie, what if we get on the podium at Worlds this year?" Meryl said beaming with pride.

Charlie grinned and raised their entwined hands, twirling her until she was laughing from dizziness. "That would be awesome. We could do it." He said.

"We could."

They were still holding hands as they walked to the hotel, a fact which didn't escape Charlie's notice.

"So...do you want to get something to eat? It's late, but I'm sure we could find something." He said, and Meryl shrugged.

"I was thinking we could just order room service. Unless you're in the mood for something specific?"

Charlie couldn't tell if she genuinely didn't want to go out to eat, or if she had plans for him that involved not leaving the hotel room until they were both sweaty and breathless.

God, he hoped it was the second one. 

Once they were in his hotel room, Charlie sat on the bed and picked up the phone, dialing the number for room service. Meryl knelt on the bed behind him, whispering her order into his ear as he talked to the attendant. It was distracting, having her hover so close to him, her breath against his neck, but he managed to keep his mind long enough to place their order.

"35 minutes? Yeah ok, that'll be fine."

He had barely hung up the phone before Meryl slipped his earlobe into her mouth, tugging gently. He groaned, and relished the feeling of her arms wrapping around his middle, her body warm against his back. She kissed down his neck, and her hands crept under his shirt, massaging the sore muscles of his back. Charlie felt a pang of guilt in the back of his mind as his thoughts drifted back to Eric, and how happy he had made her.

"Meryl, wait. You have a boyfriend." He said, shuddering as she ran her fingers lightly up his sides, leaving goosebumps behind.

"So?" She said simply, dragging his shirt up his abdomen. Charlie stopped her and stilled her hands.

"So, it's cheating. And that's not you." He insisted, and Meryl sighed in exasperation.

"It'd be cheating if we were doing this _out there._ Back home. We're at a competition, we're in Canada...Come on Charlie, you know how this works." She said, and her voice lowered.

"And I need you."

And with that, he lost any semblance of control he was hanging onto.  Charlie jumped off the bed, ripping his shirt off over his head while Meryl helped rid him of his pants. Meryl was wearing a flowy skirt, and it was quickly removed, along with her top and bra. Finally, once there was enough skin bared, he bent down and kissed her with hunger, mixed with endless relief. She made a little sound of pleasure when his hands covered her breasts, caressing her firmly, and she tugged at his hair not so gently. Her tongue flicked against his, encouraging him to take more, which he did, which he always did...

She started to pull at his boxers, but he ducked out of reach, moving down to the end of the bed and capturing her foot, kissing the ankle. She giggled and sighed, resting her head back on the pillow and Charlie slowly continued his thorough ministrations up her leg. He kissed her knee, and then stopped, looking up at her.

"So how's the sex?" He asked conversationally, and Meryl quirked an eyebrow.

"You want me to write a progress report for you? Because you're doing pretty well so far." She said, and gasped when he nipped at her thigh.

"I mean with Eric. How is he?"

Meryl froze, and sat up on her elbows. "Why on earth do you want to know that?" She asked, pursing her lips.

"I'm just curious." He said, trailing his mouth further up her leg. She collapsed back on the bed, wriggling under him. "We're friends, and friends talk..."

"You just want to--you want to know if he's better than you." Meryl said breathlessly, as Charlie slowly pulled her underwear over her hips and down her legs.

"Is he?"

She didn't answer, and he crawled back up to kiss her deeply, grinding down on top of her. He slipped her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, and her finger sunk into his back.

"Come on, is he? Does he make you feel anywhere near as good as this?"

She squirmed, gasping breathlessly. "No." She admitted finally, "he's kind of awful."

Charlie smirked. "That's what I figured." He said, and lowered his head back down to the juncture of her thighs. 

* * *

This time, Meryl didn't leave as soon as they were finished; they had ordered room service after all, and Meryl wasn't about to pass up a good meal. They were lying on the bed in their robes, eating their health-conscious dinners of plain chicken, rice, and salad, and Charlie was thankful for the extra time with Meryl.

"I wish we could have ordered mac and cheese. That sounds _so_ good right now. And a baked potato. And butter...just, butter on everything." Meryl sighed, daydreaming about all the food they weren't allowed to eat at competitions.

Charlie laughed, and nudged her. "I wore you out, huh?"

Meryl flushed and ducked her head, stuffing spinach leaves into her mouth and pretending she hadn't heard him.

"Why are you with him?" He asked quietly, and winced at how desperate he sounded.

Meryl glanced at him and shrugged. "He's good to me. He listens, he makes me laugh..."

"I do that."

She fell silent for a few moments. Meryl bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, like she used to do in the kiss & cry when she was forcing herself _not_ to cry.

"Yeah, but you're...you." She said softly, and he nodded, understanding what she meant. After all this time, they still couldn't put their relationship into words.

"Always will be." He promised, and she sighed, cupping his chin and kissing him gently. Meryl wasn't one to initiate affection after sex, and the soft, short kiss alone made his stomach flip.

Her phone rang, and he cursed, already having a feeling of who it was.

"I should..." She started, and Charlie gestured for her to take the call.

Meryl stood up and answered her cell phone, wrapping the robe tighter around her as she walked to the other side of the room.

"Hey babe, how are you?" She said quietly, sweetly, and Charlie burned with jealousy.

"Yeah, we did well. First, so far. Yeah....it was great."

Charlie tried to busy himself with his chicken, but it was cold and tasteless, and felt dry in his mouth. Meryl continued to tell Eric about her day, and Charlie noticed that not once did Meryl say his name. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"I--I miss you too. I'll see you in a few days." She said, her voice tight, and he immediately looked up to meet her eyes. She was crying.

"Alright, thank you."

A noticeable pause, and a pained look on Meryl's face.

"Goodnight." She said softly, and ended the call.

Meryl wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and Charlie got up to hold her, but she sidestepped him and started picking up her clothes off the floor.

"Meryl...please tell me what's wrong." He begged, stopping her with a hand to her shoulder.

She turned away from him as she put on her bra and slipped her shirt over her head. "I...I don't know." She said, and Charlie believed her.

He knew what that was like, feeling things that defied explanation.

"Has he told you he loves you?" Charlie asked, having been wondering the same question for weeks.

Meryl grabbed her purse and was about to leave, but she hesitated to answer.

"Yes. Several times." She whispered.

"Have you said it back?"

"Goodnight, Charlie."

And with that, she was gone, and Charlie was alone again.


	5. in ruins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter one, and kind of intense. if you haven't yet seen it, look up "Davis White 2008 Cup of Russia." It was disastrous, to say the least. So I think you know where this is going. I hope you like it, and thanks for reading and reviewing :)

Three days after they returned from Skate Canada, Meryl broke up with Eric, and Charlie wasn't as happy as he thought he'd be.

It was hard to be happy when Meryl was crying on his shoulder, asking him if she was difficult to love, if there was something wrong with her, and why she wasn't able to get too close to anyone, to which Charlie replied honestly.

_Of course not. Never. I don't know._

If anything, Meryl was too easy to love. Too perfect. She was sweet and kind and intelligent, and when she was around, everything was just _better._ He felt sorry for any man who fell in love with her, just for her to be ripped out of their lives with no warning. He knew what that was like, feeling her slip through his fingers like smoke.

As always, she swore off relationships, and then men in general.

"I don't need anyone else. Except you, Charlie."

He wish she hadn't said that. Charlie knew what that type of thinking did to a person, what it did to _him._ As much as he hated to admit it, Eric had been good for her. He made her happy, he gave her a life outside of the rink, he gave her normalcy; everything Charlie couldn't give. Meryl didn't say why she broke things off, but Charlie suspected he played a part in ruining the only real relationship she'd had in years.

Charlie couldn't help but wonder if he was ruining _her_.

* * *

**Cup of Russia, 2008**

He knew something was wrong as soon as he stepped onto the ice, and so did Meryl. His blades felt dull and his costume too tight, and the rink was far too warm for the ice to stay so solid. Never before had he felt the same sort of impending sense of doom before a program, and he didn't know what to make of it. Charlie wondered if this was what being a head case was like. As they circled around the rink, preparing to start their Original Dance, Meryl squeezed his hand reassuringly, giving him a small smile before they took their opening positions. At first it was smooth sailing, but the farther they got in the program, the more terrified he was that he would fall.

And he did. He stumbled on the twizzles and put a hand down, voiding Meryl's otherwise perfect set. Charlie hoped that he had gotten all of his mistakes for the program out of the way. But he fell again, and Meryl met his eyes briefly, whispering "It's ok" into his ear. The program wasn't even halfway through and he had already made two glaring mistakes. His brain had gone haywire, and he struggled to just keep up with the music, praying that he wouldn't trip during a close hold or a spin and drag Meryl with him. A few steps later, he fell once more, hard. Charlie had never fallen this many times in a program before, and he could practically hear Igor cursing at him in Russian.

Their lift was coming up, and every muscle in Charlie's body was screaming at him to not risk it; if he fell during a lift, Meryl _would_ be hurt.

"It's ok. Go for it." She said breathlessly, and he did as he was told, summoning whatever stability and muscle control he had left to complete their lift without a hitch. He was able to hold on until the end, with Meryl tucked precariously around his back. He let her down carefully and she kissed his cheek, but he didn't meet her eyes.

This was his worst skate ever, bar none, and he had just made a fool out of himself and of Meryl on an international stage. Charlie was humiliated, and dreaded having to sit in front of a camera in the kiss and cry as they received their scores.

"It's alright. Don't worry about it. It happens." Meryl said quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist tightly as they skated back to the boards.

Charlie shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mer. I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry."

He continued to apologize all the way into the kiss and cry, and Meryl continued to brush it off as no big deal. Igor patted him on the back firmly and laughed, but Charlie could tell he was seething. And he should have been; they received a score of 43 points, 13 points lower than Skate Canada. They were in 8th place.

Meryl had every right to be mad at him, to be frustrated and disappointed and utterly furious at him for losing his focus. But she wasn't. As they walked back to the hotel, she told stupid jokes and tried to make him laugh, holding his hand even though he was squeezing her fingers like a vice. She was sympathetic, and understanding, and _supportive,_ and Charlie hated it. He wanted her to yell at him; he _deserved_ to be yelled at.

The anger and shame at his own poor performance threatened to overwhelm him, and he knew he shouldn't invite Meryl back to his room. But he did anyway, and he hated himself for it.

* * *

Charlie did not make love to Meryl that night.

Instead, he fucked her into the mattress, gripping her hips so tightly he would probably leave marks on her skin. She said nothing, and her breath came in short pants as she ran her hands up his chest and over his back. He captured her hands and held them over her head, leaning down for a bruising, desperate kiss. It was fast, rough, and he came quickly with a guttural cry.

Catching his breath, he rolled off of her and guilt hit him like a ton of bricks as he realized what he'd done. He stared at her as she got up and started putting her clothes back on, shuddering when he saw the angry red scratches he had left on her hips. He put his boxers back on and sat at the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets tightly.

"You didn't even--" He started quietly, but Meryl interrupted, sitting down next to him.

"It's ok, it's fine." She said, and stroked his arm. "This was about you." He winced and moved away, burying his head in his hands.

He was so selfish. So, so selfish.

"I'm an awful person. I'm so sorry, Meryl."

Meryl sat next to him and tugged at his wrists so she could hold his hands. "No you're not. It's not like it wasn't consensual--"

"I used you, Meryl!" He cried, finally facing her. "I was angry and upset, and I needed an outlet, and I _used you._ I wasn't even thinking about you, or how you felt, or what you wanted..." He got up and started pacing, running his hand through his hair.

"I've been letting you down all day. I humiliated us both and I was rough with you and I didn't even try to make it good for you..."

Meryl was the most important person in his life, and he still treated her like dirt. She didn't deserve any of this.

Meryl jumped off the bed and stood behind him, wrapping herself around around him and pressing her cheek against his back. He froze, and placed his hands over Meryl's, trying gently to pry them off, but she stood firm.

"Stop it. You haven't let me down. You had a bad day, and you needed some good sex to get over it. That's all." She said.

"It wasn't good!" Charlie cried, and Meryl chuckled against his back.

"Well, better luck next time."

He broke away from her, bewildered at her nonchalance. "Why aren't you mad at me? You should be furious!"

She frowned. "How can I be angry? It could have just as easily been me."

"No, because you're _perfect_ and I'm the weak link here, Meryl. I'm the one that lost focus and falls _three times_ in one program, and then fucked you like a whore!" He said, his voice raising.

"I'm ruining you, Meryl. This whole thing, this whole _arrangement;_ it's screwing with our heads! You shouldn't be ok with this, you shouldn't want this--"

"Don't tell me what I do or don't want." She said sternly, and he broke.

"You deserve better!"

"Charlie, calm down."

"For God's sake, just yell at me!" He cried, and Meryl pursed her lips.

She crossed the gap between them smoothly and stood mere millimeters from him, taking his face in her hands and looking straight into his eyes.

"No. I'm not going to be mad at you." She said firmly, her breath coming warm against his cheeks.

"Then do _something._ " He pleaded, placing his hands carefully on her waist.

She backed him up until he felt the back of his knees hit the bed, and she pushed him to recline, climbing in next to him.

"I'm sorry." He said again, quietly.

She kissed his shoulder, and then his collarbone. "I forgive you."

He wanted to push her away. He wanted to punish himself for treating her the way he did, but her lips were so soft against his skin, and her hands felt wonderful in his hair, and she kept saying those three beautiful words.

"I forgive you." She kissed up his neck and over his jaw, not biting or sucking or otherwise trying to seduce him. Just lips on skin, murmuring her reassurances. Finally, her lips met his and she kissed him softly, without rushing. It wasn't the kind of kiss that led to sex. It was her way of saying everything would be alright, that _they_ would be alright. And it was more than enough.

They lay there for what seemed like an hour, just kissing and holding each other tenderly. Charlie wondered if it was right, to feel this good after what had happened that day. But Meryl didn't think he needed to be punished, and she offered her forgiveness freely.

Charlie glanced at the clock on the nightstand and his heart dropped.

"It's 10:30. Are you going to--"

"I'll stay." She said softly, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief and held her tighter to him, running his hands up and down her arms lazily.

"You're breaking the rules for me." He whispered, and he felt her smile against his bare skin.

"Of course. You're the exception, Charlie."

 


	6. something's got to give

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sad. I'm sorry. 
> 
> Continues to be a work of fiction.

**June, 2009**

Waking up next to her wasn't satisfying or comforting, or anything else he thought it would be when he fell into bed with her again last night. It was guilt and shame, and Charlie eased himself out of bed quietly, trying not to wake her and come face to face with what this was; with what _they_ were.

As he fumbled with his clothes, he heard her start to stir, and knew that he wasn't going to be able to avoid this. He tugged on his shirt and turned around.

"Charlie? Why are you up so early?" She mumbled drowsily, rolling over to face him.

"I'm meeting Meryl for breakfast before practice."

Tanith nodded and propped herself up on her elbows. "Are you going to tell her about us?"

Charlie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He should; he _knew_ that he should. But saying it out loud--saying it to _Meryl_ \--would make it real, and he was content with living in this fairytale they had going. He and Tanith had started hooking up a few weeks ago, and it was casual until Tanith started suggesting he move some of his clothes into her place and talked about taking a vacation together. It had been too long since he had last been in a relationship, and he really liked Tanith. They had been friends for years and she more than anyone understood the demands of their sport. She was understanding and sweet and _stable._ She might have been exactly what he needed right then. 

But then, there was Meryl. 

"I don't know. Maybe it's not a good time." He said slowly, and she smiled sadly.

"It's better to do it now than to wait. It would be cruel to tell her further down the road....like in Vancouver. She's your partner; she should know."

Tanith still didn't know the extent of his and Meryl's relationship, and the lines they so often blurred. He didn't plan on saying anything; it was complicated enough, dating their competition.

"I'll tell her when the moment's right. I'll see you later, Tanith." He said, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips.

He wanted it to work with Tanith. He wanted to see where this could go and maybe, finally, have a shot at finding happiness outside of the rink and strange hotel rooms. But then...Meryl, the women who too often skimmed the line between what he wanted and what he needed.

But he couldn't pine after her forever. She couldn't be what he wanted her to be, and that was fine. It would _have_ to be fine. Their partnership and their skating were their priorities; anything else he'd have to find elsewhere.

* * *

"So this girl has barely put in enough community service hours, while I've been gone half the year and I _still_ have three times as many hours." Meryl said, pursing her lips and taking a sip of her iced coffee. "I mean, don't join a service organization if you're not going to _serve._ "

They were sitting on a bench outside one of the college's coffee shops eating breakfast, enjoying the rare silence of the campus. It was June and it was far too early in the morning for any students to be wandering around. For all intents and purposes, it was a good time to tell Meryl about his relationship.

Or rather, it was a good time to _ask_ her. Charlie had already told Tanith that if Meryl was truly dead-set against the idea of him dating their competitor, their relationship just wouldn't work.

"Charlie, you're not listening." Meryl said, more bemused than annoyed.

"Hm? Sorry, I was--"

"Thinking, I know. Care to let me in?"

"You're not going to like it." He said plainly, and she tilted her head, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you tell me anyway? I promise I'll hear you out. Maybe I can help." She said kindly, making him feel all the more guilty for what he was about to tell her.

He took a careful sip of his iced tea, biting the straw and trying to remember how he had decided to word this in the car ride over. "So, Tanith and I..."

"Ah. Ok." She said, nodding and looking down at her lap. "I get where this is going."

Because of course she did.

"Meryl, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't want you to get upset." He said, trying to gauge her reaction.

She kept her face passive, almost emotionless. "How long?"

Charlie scratched his neck nervously. "Uh, a few weeks. It was casual though, at first. But now..." He trailed off.

"Not so casual."

"Yeah."

Meryl nodded and finished off her cup of coffee, getting up and throwing the cup into a trashcan a few feet away. He watched her carefully, looking for any outright signs of anger or disappointment, but there were none.

"Meryl, I promise that our partnership will always come first. Our skating is the most important thing, and that's not going to change. But if you're not comfortable with this--"

"Why wouldn't I be comfortable with it?" She snapped, narrowing her eyes and shifting on the bench, slightly away from him. "It's none of my business who you're screwing."

"I mean, she _is_ our competitor, and it's an Olympic year..."

"And you said you're not going to let it interfere." She said, and her expression softened slightly. "I trust you. I just want you to be happy, Charlie. That's all."

"I think I could be happy with her." He said quietly, and she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Good. You deserve that." She said, and Charlie heard a trace of sadness in her voice. He reached over to hold her hand, and had to consciously stop himself from bringing it to his lips.

"You deserve to be happy, too."

She squeezed his hand back, but her smile was still forced. He wondered if Meryl was thinking ahead to the competition season, and what his relationship would mean for _their_ relationship. He remembered how the jealousy had eaten away at him, seeing Meryl with Eric. He had made love to her that night as if he was trying to will away the other man's existence, as if hearing his own name from Meryl's lips somehow validated him as _the_ man in her life. But it still hurt, knowing that he couldn't have all of her while some other man, some outsider, could.

Charlie knew he was to blame for the dissolution of Meryl's relationship, and he knew firsthand how much it hurt, pretending that everything was ok; it would be self-sabotage to continue with what they were doing. It would be masochistic and stupid, not to mention disrespectful to Tanith, and yet he couldn't stop the words coming out of his mouth.

"Nothing has to change."

She looked up at him, understanding his implication. She shook her head and smiled sadly.

"Nothing ever does."

 

* * *

**November, 2009  
**

Charlie knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help but look forward to events where Tanith and Ben were not competing. He liked spending time with Tanith and he _was_ happy with their relationship, but there was a time and a place for everything. Competitions just so happened to be the time and the place for him and Meryl, and no one else.

If anything, Charlie's relationship status only made Meryl more bold. After their Compulsory Dance, she had pushed Charlie into a supply closet backstage, dropping to her knees in front of him and pulling his pants down past his hips. He had clamped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from moaning, but she made that difficult when she used her mouth  _like that._ Thiswas not the Meryl he knew, but he accepted that he was _weak_ when it came to her.

Afterwards, she had grabbed his hand, holding it all the way to the hotel but not saying a word. If he didn't know better, he would think that she was acting possessive. But it was _Meryl._ She didn't get possessive or jealous; she just got...stressed.

Once they entered Meryl's hotel room, she pushed him onto her bed and stepped back, slowly removing her clothing. He gulped and watched, transfixed, as she shed her layers, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he placed it facedown on the nightstand without looking away from Meryl.

 No matter how long this _thing_ lasted, Charlie would never get tired of just looking at her. "You're beautiful." He breathed, reaching out and skimming the side of her bare thigh as she stepped forward.

"I know I'm not Tanith..." She said, glancing down and suddenly acting almost shy. "I see why you like her so much. She's perfect."

"Stop." He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto his lap. "Don't talk about--don't talk like that. _You're beautiful._ " He repeated, kissing her knuckles and the tips of her fingers one by one.

He laid her back down on the bed and stood up to quickly undress, kicking his shoes off before climbing back onto the bed and hovering over Meryl. She didn't try to grab at his hair or pull him down on top of her; she just reached up and touched his face softly, frowning slightly. He bent down and kissed the edge of her mouth, as if trying to nudge her lips into a smile.

"What's wrong?" He asked, cupping her face in his hands. "What do you need?"

Meryl stared at his lips and silently wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. The desperation with which she clutched at him sent shivers down his back, and he held her tighter.

"You. I need you." She whispered, bringing his lips to hers and kissing him fiercely.

So he gave her what she needed, because that was all he had ever done, and all that he knew how to do. He took his time, and her body rose and fell in time with his.

Afterwards, she cried and he panicked.

"What's wrong? Meryl, what did I do?" He asked, stroking the sides of her face and watching helplessly as the tears slid down her face. She had been fine--seemingly _more_ than fine--a few minutes ago, but now the dams were bursting open.

She clamped her eyes shut and shook her head, a small sob escaping her mouth.

"Meryl, please. Talk to me, sweetie."

"I can't, Charlie. I can't, I can't..." She whimpered, and Charlie had never before seen her look so broken.

He kissed her damp cheeks and her eyelids, his hands fluttering at her sides, not sure where to touch to make it better. He _needed_ to make it better.

"What can I do, Meryl? Tell me what to do?" He begged her, rolling them over so she was curled against his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, holding her close as she cried.

"Don't leave." She whispered, and he frowned, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Never. I'm here. I'm always here." He assured her, peppering kisses over her face, trying to comfort her the only way he knew how.

 She drew away and rested her head on his shoulder, breathing heavily against his neck. He tightened his grip on her, rubbing her back and stroking her hair until she calmed down enough to speak.

"Why do I do this to myself, Charlie?" She said softly, her tears still dripping onto his skin. "I can't...I can't _handle it._ "

"Handle what, Mer?" Charlie asked, already suspecting the answer. He never should have let this happen.

"This. All of this. You're with _her_ and it hurts and _this_ hurts and I can't do it..." She said, her voice cracking.

"It's ok, Meryl. It'll be ok. I'll...I'll break up with her. Everything will go back to normal, and nothing has to change." He said quickly, lifting Meryl's chin so he could look at her.

She shook her head and pressed her hand against his chest, taking a deep break before speaking. "No, you're not breaking up with Tanith. She makes you happy and you like her; you might even love her."

"Meryl, I--"

"Don't. Don't say that, Charlie." She said, almost pleadingly. "Nothing is ever going to come out of _this._ But you and Tanith...you could be really good together. There's a future there."

He hated to admit it, but she was right. They could have a future, and it would probably be a happy one. But whenever he envisioned the future, Meryl was always there, in some capacity. She was the constant.

"We can't ruin what we have, Charlie. We've worked too hard. But this, what we've been doing the past few years...it's not ok. It can't work."

He bit his lip and closed his eyes, trying to hold back his own tears. He knew what she was saying was true, but it still hurt.

"I know. I've known for a while, but I didn't want to say anything, I was too selfish. I just...I wanted all of you, all the time, and I thought _this_ was better than nothing, but--"

"It's worse." She said, and he nodded.

"It was supposed to be just sex." He said softly, and she exhaled sharply.

"It was never going to be just sex, Charlie. Not with us." She said. "We care about each other too much."

They held each other for a little while longer, not speaking, knowing that once they separated, this couldn't happen again. Charlie ran his fingers lightly up and down Meryl's arm, making her shiver. A part of him refused to believe that this would be the last time he would get to touch her like this. Maybe for the foreseeable future, but not forever. Certain things, certain _people_ , always seem to find their way back.

"I think you should go now." Meryl whispered, while still clutching onto his arm.

He nodded and untangled himself from her, getting up and quietly putting his clothes back on. Meryl remained in bed, watching him sadly. Once he had pulled his shoes back on, he returned to her bedside, pulling up the blankets and carefully tucking them in around her. She stared up at him curiously, as if she wanted to ask him something, but remained silent.

"Goodnight, Meryl." He said softly, bending down and kissing her forehead.

"Goodnight, Charlie." She answered, giving him a small smile.

He turned off the lights for her and left, shutting the door before he could change his mind. He stumbled back to his hotel room in a daze, aching and on the verge of tears again, feeling as if he had left his heart in Meryl's hotel room. Perhaps he had.

But it was for the best. He still had Meryl and they still had their partnership, albeit in a less-intense manner. And he had Tanith. Lovely, patient Tanith who had called him half a dozen times while he was with Meryl, just wanting to ask about his day. They could work, if he really gave it a shot. Charlie resolved to try. He would take Tanith up on that offer to spend Christmas with her family. Maybe in a few months, he'd ask her to move in with him. They would make each other happy, and Charlie would finally move on.

But then, always in the corner of his mind, there was Meryl.


	7. silently the senses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, they've made it to Vancouver. Thanks for reading, guys.

It was for the best, this breaking of their arrangement. At least, that was Charlie's mantra in the months following the Grand Prix season and Nationals, leading up to the Olympics. He no longer spent every practice aching to kiss her, to touch her in all the ways he used to dream of. Sometimes, Meryl would say something or move a certain way, and all those old feelings would come rushing back. But he grew adept at suppressing those urges until he barely even noticed them.

Better yet, his relationship with Tanith had only gotten stronger, or at least more stable. She and Ben were training in Pennsylvania and the distance seemed to be good for them; Charlie looked forward to calling her at the end of the day, and they were already planning a vacation together after the Olympics. They were happy together, and he loved her and the normalcy and calm she brought to him. 

But things had changed between him and Meryl; there was no denying. And true, their day-to-day lives stayed the same; they were at the rink sunrise to sundown, working together with the same easy familiarity they'd always had. But there was a hesitation in the way she touched him. There was always that inch of space between them now, but it felt like a mile. Meryl seemed to avoid spending too much time alone with him outside of the rink, as if she was afraid that one or both of them would lose their resolve. Perhaps they would.

Meryl was keeping her distance, and that hurt more than anything else. 

Still, it was for the best. With no distractions, they were working harder than ever, often out-staying their coaches and the other teams at the rink. Their focus was set firmly on Vancouver, which was now only weeks away. Both of them wanted to medal of course, but Meryl was approaching every practice, every day, with an intensity usually only reserved for major competitions. She threw herself full-on into the most minor of exercises, to the point where he started to worry about her health.

"Take it easy, Mer." He gasped, bending over to catch his breath after yet another fast-paced run through, an hour after Marina and Igor had left. "Vancouver is three weeks away; don't wear yourself out _now._ "

Meryl brushed off her concern, but he could see how tense her back was, and how stiffly she held her neck. "I'm fine." She lied, and he knew better than to call her out on it.

"Ok, well don't wear _me_ out, please. Unless you want to go to Vancouver alone." He said, and her expression softened.

She skated back around to him, ducking under his arm so she could support part of his weight. They had been at the rink, training on and off ice, for almost 10 hours; he was exhausted and his muscles were aching. But he had agreed to the extra training time anyway, because Meryl wanted it. Charlie couldn't give her everything, but he could at least give her _this._

"I'm sorry, I'm working us too hard, aren't I? Text Igor and ask if you can take the morning off." She suggested, as they stepped off the ice.

Charlie looked at her warily. "Yeah? And what about you?" 

Meryl shrugged. "I'll work out. Maybe do some ballet." She said, and sighed, seeing the look on his face. "You can stop worrying about me, Charlie. I'm _fine._ "

She sat down on a bench and started unlacing her skates. Charlie sat down next to her but didn't move, watching her carefully. Her fingers were clumsily yanking at the laces and her forehead was creased in frustration. At this angle, he could faintly see the dark circles under her eyes, hidden with makeup.

"You're just as tired as I am." He said, recognizing her signs of exhaustion. "You need a break as much as I do."

"I don't need a break, Charlie." She huffed, tugging off her boots and placing them in her bag. "I'm fine."

"You keep saying that, and we both know that's not true." He said, quickly untying his own boots. She remained silent, looking down at her lap. Once he put on his sneakers, he stood up and took her hand, pulling her to her feet.

"You don't need to push yourself so hard, Meryl." He said quietly, holding both of her hands. "I know you're nervous, but we're going to be ok. We're going to get through this, together."

She smiled weakly and nodded. "Alright, maybe I'll ask for tomorrow morning off to relax a bit. I think I'm mentally and emotionally drained more than anything."

Now that she had let her guard down, he could see how rough the past few weeks had been on her. She had a faraway look in her eyes, and it reminded him of their competitions, when she was so stressed she couldn't think straight. Charlie bit his lip, already knowing that what he was about to say was a bad idea.

"Do you want me to...help?" He asked softly, hesitantly touching the side of her face. He knew she would understand his implication.

Meryl sighed and leaned into him, closing her eyes for a moment. It was tempting for both of them, to forget what they had agreed on, if only for a momentary release from this Olympic pressure.

"No." She whispered, opening her eyes and shaking her head. "I'll be...I'll be ok."

She took a step back and he let his hand fall limply to his side. Still, she smiled at him, although it didn't reach her eyes. "We should get going. Tanith has probably been waiting to hear from you."

The mention of Tanith's name was like a shock through his body, and he was inundated with guilt. For a minute, he had been more than willing to take Meryl back to his place and go back on their promise to each other. He knew it was wrong, to be so eager to sleep with a woman not his girlfriend, but it was _Meryl._ No matter what lies he tried to tell himself, deep down he knew that a part of him would always want Meryl.

"And you'll take it easy tomorrow morning, right Meryl? You won't go to the gym or anything?" He asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking with her out the doors. It was already dark outside; Charlie couldn't remember the last time he had been out in the sun for more than a few hours.

"I'll relax; I promise." She said, bumping his shoulder playfully. "We can get breakfast, if you want."

He readily agreed, thankful that she wasn't trying to put more distance between them. The Olympics were only a few weeks away; there couldn't be that chasm between them anymore. They couldn't return to the way things were, but they could still be close. And that was enough for Charlie.

* * *

 

Standing next to Meryl on the Olympic podium with a silver medal around his neck, Charlie couldn't remember a time when he had been happier to be alive. It didn't matter that the color of the medal wasn't quite perfect, or that Tanith and Ben had been officially snubbed by the judges. All that mattered was the feel of cool metal against his skin, and the girl tucked under his arm beside him. The flashes of the cameras were blinding, and the roar of the stadium as the home team accepted the gold was almost deafening, but Charlie felt like he was high. 

Meryl leaned over, a smile still stretched widely across her face, and whispered, "I feel dizzy, but in the good way."

He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. 13 years of training had culminated in this moment, and the sense of accomplishment and pride was overwhelming. They had hugged Tessa and Scott, congratulating them sincerely on their victory. They had earned it, after all. He and Meryl could start thinking about Sochi 2014 later. For now, this was about _them,_ and what they had accomplished together.

His ears continued to ring as they left the arena, staring down at his medal and grinning like an idiot. Meryl tugged on his arm just as he was about to walk into a streetlamp.

"You're supposed to be the one that stops me from running into things, Charlie." She teased, looping her arm through his.

Their parents and even Tanith had understood that Meryl and Charlie would want some time alone after their second place finish, and had let the two go their own way after congratulatory hugs were given. He had promised Tanith that he would spend the afternoon with her tomorrow, after he finished the interviews with Meryl. But for tonight, it would be just them, and Charlie tried not to think about what that could entail.

"So, what do you want to do?" He asked her, as they walked aimlessly through the city. It was still relatively early in the evening, only 9pm, and Vancouver had an active nightlife.

Meryl smiled dreamily. "Let's get drunk, Charlie. Really, really drunk."

Charlie laughed nervously, patting her arm. "Uh, we have media stuff tomorrow morning, Mer. Is that really a good idea?" He had to admit the idea was tempting, though; they hadn't been allowed to drink anything substantial for months.

"True. Ok, we'll have a glass of champagne. And we can watch _Cutting Edge 2,_ with the girl from _Even Stevens!_ " She said, and he groaned, thinking back to how many times she had made him watch the first _Cutting Edge_ movie. To others, it might seem like an odd request, especially after winning a silver medal at their first Olympics. But this was just how he and Meryl celebrated.

"And we're _just_ watching the movie." She reminded him, lowering her voice. "Nothing else."

Charlie nodded. "Nothing else."

* * *

 

Charlie wasn't sure what to call this, but he didn't think it qualified as "just watching the movie." They were lying on Meryl's bed together, watching the movie on her laptop atop the dresser. She was curled against his chest, her legs tangled with his comfortably. He had wrapped one arm around her waist while the other hand traced circles over the exposed skin of her hip. He had missed this closeness, and was content to lie here with her forever, watching crappy skating movies and taking sips of cheap champagne he had bought at the corner store. Guilt nagged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. They weren't _doing_ anything. They were just...close. And they needed that right now.

"This program music has words. Pairs music can't use words." Meryl mumbled, sounding slightly drowsy.

Charlie laughed. "Right, because the rest of the movie is such a shining beacon of accuracy. This actress must be 5'7, 5'8...what's she doing in pairs?"

"Breaking down barriers, Charlie. Open your mind." She said, and then her face lit up as she looked back to Charlie.

"We got a silver medal, at the _Olympics._ " She whispered, as if it was a secret. Since they had left the arena, Meryl had been reminding him of their placement at random intervals, as if he had forgotten.

Charlie glanced over at their medals on the nightstand and grinned. "Yep. We're two of the best skaters in the world, Mer." Just saying it made them both giddy, and she giggled, turning her face inward towards his chest, pressing her ear over his heart.

"I'm so happy." She murmured, trailing her fingers up his arm. He shuddered, and drew her in closer.

"I'm happy too."

The movie dragged on, but Charlie had already stopped paying attention, his focus being consumed by his petite partner curled so perfectly into him. She was soft and warm, yet her fingers were cool against his skin, trailing absently up and down his arm. Meryl moved a little and her shirt rode up a few inches; he instinctively splayed his hand, wanting to touch every inch of exposed skin. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. But she must have known what she was doing to him, touching him like that and squirming around to get comfortable; she knew how responsive he was to her.

Or perhaps, this really was _just watching a movie_ , and he was over-thinking it. Meryl had been the level-headed one about the situation, insisting they break off their arrangement and stopping him whenever he got too close at the rink. She was the one who fully supported his relationship with Tanith, even when their coaches were more reluctant, and encouraged him to call Tanith during his breaks. She had moved on, as he was desperately trying to do. She was just his partner, nothing more. Just his partner, whom he had kissed and touched and made love to in dozens of cities, in three continents...

"Your heart rate is up." Meryl mumbled against his chest, snapping him out of his thoughts. He blushed, thankful for the darkness of the room.

"Uh, yeah. Just thinking. You know, about tonight."

Meryl nodded slowly and looked up at him, studying him curiously.

"What?" He asked, a little flustered at her intense observation.

"If I asked you to..." Meryl started, suddenly sound shy. "would you kiss me?"

His throat ran dry, and his fingers dug into her hip. He was caught off guard, and there were a dozen answer to that question, all containing some variation of the word _yes._

"Are you asking me to?" He said carefully, and she nodded.

"Yes."

So he did as he was told, and as he had been aching to do since they turned on the god-awful movie. Cupping her face, he pressed his lips to hers, lightly at first, barely applying any pressure. Meryl reached up and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and opening her mouth to him, in an invitation. He took it willingly, re-familiarizing himself with her lips and tongue. It had been so long; it had been _too_ long...

He cradled her head, stroking his thumb over the side of her face as he kissed her eagerly and running his other hand up and down her back. He captured her bottom lip between his teeth and she moaned, releasing the best sound he'd heard all day. Just as he moved to slide his hands under her shirt, she drew away, kissing him once more on the lips and then the tip of his nose before settling back against his chest.

She returned her focus to the movie, and Charlie stared down at her, unsure of what had just happened. Meryl had initiated a kiss-- _asked_ for it--after months of keeping her distance. He was thoroughly confused, and a little guilty, and yet somehow satisfied.

"Um, what was that?" He asked, clearing his throat.

Meryl didn't look up, but tightened her grip on his arm. "I thought you needed that." She said simply, as if it was the obvious answer.

He _did_ need it, but that still wasn't a good reason. She _knew_ he would do just about anything if she asked, and she knew how messy this could get, how conflicting these emotions were. She could turn those feelings on and off, but he still couldn't. Just as he was starting to move on, she yanked him back full-force, just to push him away again. It was taunting, and it was almost cruel.

Charlie nudged her off of him and sat up, righting his wrinkled shirt and tousled hair. Wordlessly, he bent down and put on his shoes, and Meryl frowned, confused as to why he was suddenly leaving. 

"Where are you going? The movie isn't over yet." She said, reaching for his hand.

Charlie didn't want to be angry at her, not after the day's events, but he knew he couldn't be around her right now, not if he wanted to keep hold of his sanity.

"Don't ever ask me to do that again." He said softly, pleadingly. It wasn't fair, to either of them.

Meryl gulped and bobbed her head. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you happy." She whispered, looking up at him with big, sad eyes.

"I _am_ happy. I'm so proud of us." He said, bending down to kiss one cheek and then the other. "I'll see you in the morning, for media. Goodnight."

He was about to reach for his medal on the nightstand, but decided to leave it there. He walked out of the room, feeling like a deflated balloon. The joy and utter elation he had felt earlier in the day, and even the sense of comfort he had just holding Meryl, was gone. Instead, a feeling of dread sat heavy on his chest, and he knew that this fundamental separation would only get more painful. It was for the best, this distance. But at the same time, worse than he had imagined. 

 


	8. all my broken heart beats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2011 Tango. 'nuff said.  
> I deem "Distance" by Christina Perri to be this story's official song...  
> (Thanks so much for all your lovely comments, it means a lot!)

**November, 2010**

It had taken _months,_ but things between Meryl and Charlie were finally back to normal. That is, as close to normal as was realistic. Charlie found their partnership to be as strong as ever; 13 years can't be thrown away so easily. The remaining tension between them now was small, almost unnoticeable. Meryl didn't shy away anymore when he touched her, and they were back to hanging out alone without Tanith always having to be the subject of conversation.There was still that millisecond of hesitation, though, whenever he invited Meryl to come over to his house, and there was an inescapable sense of loneliness at their first Grand Prix of the season in Japan. Things had gotten better and yet, Charlie wondered if this rift between them, this unspoken strain perhaps only visible to him, would ever be completely mended.

But they had more pressing matters to focus on, like why their tango free dance wasn't working anymore. Charlie had promised Meryl that dating Tanith wouldn't interfere with his skating, and it hadn't, up until now. They had danced tango before, but never like this, never with so much _touching._ He knew it was just dancing, and Tanith wasn't the least bit jealous, having been a skater herself. But it still felt wrong, and he still felt guilty because _he knew_ that touching Meryl like this shouldn't feel so good.

So he locked those feelings down, and apparently it showed. Meryl was a natural actress, but Charlie couldn't hope to match her level of intensity. He was stiff, mechanic, too sharp, as Marina kept berating him.  As they practiced their free dance for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Marina shook her head, beckoning them closer to the boards so she could yell at them once more.

"Charlie," she said, his name sounding like an insult. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Charlie said, apologizing for nothing in particular, and for everything. He looked at Meryl. She was keeping her eyes steadily on their coach, her face masked in a neutral expression.

"Oh, don't say sorry to me! Say sorry to Meryl. Apparently, you think she is ugly."

Charlie turned his head sharply. "What? No, of course not. That's ridiculous."

Marina shrugged, waving her hand airily. "You have pretty girl to dance with, and you hold her like you hold sack of rocks. Is Meryl sack of rocks, Charlie?"

Meryl refused to meet his eyes, but a slight blush rose to her cheeks. Charlie felt his neck getting unusually warm as well.

"No, she isn't. She's, uh...good-looking." He sputtered and Meryl rolled her eyes, taking his hand and pulling him back to their positions on the ice.

"Dance like she is most desirable woman in world!" Marina called, and Charlie wondered if there was an available hole nearby, so he might crawl into it and hide for the next few days.

"Good-looking. Jeez, thanks Charlie. Real sweet of you," Meryl said under her breath, placing her other hand around his arm, digging in her nails.

Charlie winced. He knew this wasn't fair to Meryl; she was doing everything right and yet she was stuck with a partner who couldn't put his personal feelings aside long enough to skate a decent run-through.

This time, Meryl kept her eyes focused on his forehead, like Seth had her do when they were children. It made his blood boil, and apparently that anger was enough for Marina, as she declared it _good enough for Skate America._

* * *

And it was good enough, at least to beat Canada's Crone and Poirier and Maia and Alex. Their free dance was a comfortable five points above the Canadian couple, but Charlie knew they could have done better. _He_ could have done better. Their tango was sharp and technically precise, but it lacked the emotional connection, at least from his end.

The Grand Prix Final would be better. It had to be, if they wanted to move out from under Tessa and Scott's shadow.

They were at the reception after the gala, and Meryl had wandered off to the corner to talk to some of the other skaters. Charlie didn't blame her; he had a feeling that he hadn't been very good company lately. He stared down at his phone and the message from Tanith, smiling at the picture of DJ she had sent him. The poor thing had gotten her head stuck between the banisters, _again,_ and it looked like Tanith was in the process of slicking the dog down with coconut oil to remove her.

On instinct, Charlie looked up to share the photo with Meryl, but she was chatting happily a few tables away with Maia, as well as Ekaterina and Ilia, the 5th place Russian dancers. Ilia had his arm around Meryl's seat and was leaning in a little too close for comfort. Charlie forgot his phone and stared conspicuously at the table, feeling his skin crawl as Ilia moved his hand from Meryl's chair to her shoulder. In turn, she leaned in to him and laughed just a little too loud at something that couldn't possibly have been _that_ funny.

Charlie had no reason to feel jealous. He had no claim over her, and she was a grown woman; if she liked this blonde-haired, blue-eyed _,_ _chiseled son of a bitch,_ so be it. And yet, his hands clenched into fists and he felt his stomach flip uncomfortably as Maia and Ekaterina left, leaving Meryl and Ilia alone at the table. Ilia's hand crept under the table, and Charlie could only hope that it just landed on her knee. He whispered something in her ear, and she laughed, again, far too loud; the man didn't even speak fluent English. This flirtatious banter continued for what seemed like hours, and Charlie knew he must have looked pathetic and just a tiny bit deranged, staring at them like this.

Having had enough of this slow torture, Charlie stood up and pocketed his phone. He stopped by the other table and tapped Meryl on the shoulder, making her jump a little in surprise.

"I'm going back to the hotel, Mer," he said, and she nodded absently.

"Uh huh. Goodnight."

"Make sure you walk back with the Shibs or Kaitlyn and Andrew."

Ilia looked up at him, and Charlie noticed with a grimace that his hand was still hidden under the table. "No worry. I walk Meryl to hotel." Ilia said in halting English, flashing Charlie a stupid grin.

"Yeah, no worries. Well, goodnight," Charlie said lamely, waiting another half-second before turning away and escaping the reception before Alex or anyone else noticed he was gone.

As soon as he was out in the cool night air, he took out his phone and dialed Tanith's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey babe, I miss you..." he said, starting the trek back to the hotel, alone.

* * *

 At 1am, Charlie woke up suddenly to the sound of a headboard loudly knocking against the wall from the adjacent room. Charlie groaned and pulled his covers over his head, trying to drown out the sound. When this many young, healthy athletes were booked in the same hotel, this sort of thing became pretty routine. Still, Charlie would have liked to stew in his own tension _in peace._ Damn horny figure skaters. Damn cheap, cheap Portland hotel rooms.

The knocking stopped, only to be replaced with loud, breathy moans. Charlie froze and tugged his covers down, listening in as realization slowly dawned on him. He would know that voice anywhere, had dreamt about it more times than he cared to admit. And yes, now he remembered; Meryl had the room right next to his.

Shit.

He should have known that this would happen sooner or later, but he wasn't sure if anything could have prepared him for the gut-wrenching, uncomfortable pain of hearing his partner moan and gasp and _writhe_ under another man's hands.

Charlie wanted to break those hands.

Her breathy little moans got louder, as did Ilia's (frankly unseemly) grunts. He grabbed the pillow next to him and buried his head in it, wondering if it would be better to just smother himself now. Charlie considered getting up and putting his headphones in before remembering that he had lent them to Meryl. _Of course._  

Charlie tried to focus on something--anything--else, but with every vocalization and every thump of the headboard, his mental image of the _situation_ next door was only becoming clearer. He pictured her on the bed, naked, her hair fanned out on her pillow, her hands clenched in _his own_ hair, where they belonged. Right about now, she would be wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, bucking and urging him on, gasping as his hands fondled her breasts before traveling lower, and she would arch her back, crying out...

"Charlie!"

Charlie was ripped from his daydream at the sound, taking a second to process that this was real life, that had actually happened, she had actually cried--practically screamed-- _his name_. The realization made his stomach flip and swell as his mind raced, trying to comprehend what this could mean.

Meanwhile, the thumping of the bed had come to an abrupt halt, either because of Meryl's inopportune exclamation or simply completion of the act. Charlie almost felt sorry for poor Ilia, but any pity was quickly squashed by feelings of intense pride and yet also...guilt? Of course. There was always guilt.

He could hear voices from the other room, angry voices, and then a minute later, the door slammed. Poor Ilia, indeed. Charlie hesitated, but ultimately his curiosity got the better of him and he got out of bed, softly treading to Meryl's room.

He knocked on the door and it quickly flew open to reveal Meryl in her short robe, obviously expecting him to be a desperate Ilia. Her face fell, and then flushed bright red as she let him in, keeping a careful distance from him. 

"So...what's up?" She asked meekly, tugging down the hem of her robe, as if modesty was her biggest concern right now.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Oh you know, I was just checking to make sure my partner wasn't being brutally murdered in her hotel room."

"Oh."

Meryl averted her eyes and sat down on her bed, burying her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry. This is awful."

Charlie leaned against the dresser, staring at her incredulously. "I have to say, I'm a bit surprised. I didn't know you were the casual sex _type,_ Mer." 

Her head shot up and she narrowed her eyes, her expression instantly growing cold. "It's no different than what you and I did," she said, keeping her voice low. "We were _casual._ "

He scoffed at that. "It was never _just casual,_ and you know it. Or did you cry your eyes out with him, too?"

"Don't be a jerk, Charlie. Did you come here to lecture me? What do you want me to say?" She asked, getting up and standing across from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Charlie raked his hand through his hair, trying to keep his eyes focused on her face. "Is this because we didn't do as well as we wanted to in the free dance? And you're angry? If you needed me, you could have just--"

"I didn't need you!" She cried, and Charlie resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You screamed my name while getting fucked by some other guy, Meryl. _My name._ "

Meryl blushed and turned away, running her finger across the dresser, collecting dust. "You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me either. It's unfair, Charlie," she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

"Don't," he said, shooting his arm out to grip her shoulder. "You know how I feel about you."

Meryl shrugged him off but didn't make any attempt to move away from him. "No, I don't. When we practice, you look at me as if I have all the sex appeal of a 12 year old. Actually, you don't look at me if you can help it, and you don't touch me right, and you make me feel like _shit,_ Charlie," she ranted, picking up steam. "I know acting doesn't come naturally to you, and I know Tanith is just _so gorgeous,_ but you could at least pretend to find me attractive! But our free dance is crap, because _you don't want me anymore._ "

Charlie stared at her slack-jawed, unable to make sense of what she had said. Without thinking, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush with his body, his obvious arousal pressing insistently against her. She whimpered a little, clutching his shoulders.

"Say it again," Charlie said, leaning down to whisper in her ear as he rotated his hips slowly. "Tell me how much I don't want you."

"Then why don't you act like it?" Meryl hissed, knotting her hands in his hair and pulling.

He groaned and dug his fingers into her hips. "I can't...I can't turn it on and off like you can, Mer. If I let go, I'm going to spend the next five months needing you, constantly."

"That's not a bad thing," she whispered, grinding against him and making his head swim. "And that tension would certainly help with the tango..."

She trailed her fingers around his neck and down his chest, over the thin cotton t-shirt. Charlie shivered and allowed his hands to drift lower from her hips, edging under the short robe and dragging it upwards. She shut her eyes and leaned in closer.

"We really shouldn't," he murmured, all the while exploring the smooth naked skin of her thighs and hips.

He wanted this. He wanted this more than he could possibly say, consequences be damned. He removed his hands so he could untie her robe, and she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, standing on her toes to press an open-mouthed kiss to the spot behind his ear. She trailed her mouth back to his jaw and stopped, snapping her eyes open.

"Which is why we won't," she whispered, hesitating slightly before drawing away.

The loss of contact felt like an electric jolt, and familiar sense of dread crept through him. Charlie clamped his eyes closed, shutting her out, and counted down from 10, trying to steady his breathing and erratic heartbeat. He heard her own shaky breathing, and he wondered why she _kept doing this._

"It's probably best if we don't, right?" She said quietly, letting out a strained laugh. "I mean, tango is all about sexual tension and frustration so really, it's better if we don't--"

"Stop it," he seethed, opening his eyes to glare at her coldly. "Stop yanking me around like this. If you want me to leave, I will. If you want me to screw you senseless right here, against the wall, _I will._ But you have to _choose,_ Meryl. You can't keep doing this." 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching up to cup his face. He didn't move away but continued to stare at her, and she winced from the cold look in his eyes. "I..."

"What?"

She shook her head and stepped away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and hugging herself as if she was cold. "Nothing. I'm just being stupid," she said, and bit her lip. "We all want what we can't have."

That last sentence hit him like a ton of bricks. Meryl's possessiveness, the sudden initiations of affection...they had all started after he and Tanith had gotten together. It couldn't be that simple, but Charlie was willing to believe it was, for his own sanity. 

Charlie stood rooted to the spot, trying to read the girl who was once an open book for him. But now she clung to the bed with eyes cast downward and a thousand different emotions flitting across her face; she was a whole new language now, and he didn't know where to start.

"So that's it?" He asked after a moment, and she looked up at him sadly.

"Yeah, that's it."

"I'm, uh, going to go now."

"Goodnight," she said, remaining seated.

He was tempted to go over and kiss her forehead, her cheek, but decided against it. He was never able to stop, when he started kissing her.

"Goodnight, Meryl."

* * *

 

For some reason, it was easier now on the ice. Charlie could look into her eyes with a passion and intensity that sometimes would make her blush, giving him a small rush of pride. Marina said it wasn't quite what she had originally intended--slow and sensual--but decided that this fiery, _angry_ sexuality would work just as well.

And it did work; they won every competition they entered that season, including Worlds. The victories was bittersweet though, as he watched Meryl take Italian or French men back to her room after the galas, and he purposefully booked his rooms as far away from hers as possible. Charlie knew the feeling of wanting what he couldn't have; it wasn't a new feeling, after all.

 

 


	9. lock and key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I've had this chapter in mind for ages, and I really hope you like it!! Thank you so much for reading, your lovely reviews mean the world!

**July 2011**

By mid summer, Charlie and Meryl had started to come down from their euphoric high of winning Worlds, leaving them stressed and under pressure as Marina scrambled to put together a new program for them. Their _La Strada_ free dance fell through, having been not well received at Champs Camp, so they were working double time just to catch up and adapt the choreography to the new program; _Die Fledermaus_.

It came as a surprise then, when Meryl frequently ended up being the calm and collected one during their practices, seeming happy and relaxed while Charlie was biting his nails to the quick. Marina had also noticed, and complimented Meryl on her "positive feeling."

"I'm just in a good mood, I guess," Meryl said brightly, swinging her arms back and forth gaily.

Charlie regarded her with bemusement; it was 5pm and they had been working nonstop for the past few hours, but she was still brimming with energy. Charlie hadn't been a negative presence during practice per se, but it was a little exhausting to keep up with her.

"Yes, perfect. Be more like her, Charlie," Marina said pointedly, and Charlie laughed dryly.

"Sure thing, Marina. Let me just borrow one of Meryl's skating skirts, and we'll be golden."

"If it helps, it helps," Marina said, shrugging. "Go do cool down. I'm tired now."

Meryl took Charlie's hand to skate a few laps around the rink together. She skated with a small smile on her face, and Charlie had to admit he was glad that she seemed happy after the rough few months she had.

"So...what's up?" He asked, taking her other hand to pull her into hold. "You've been cheery lately."

"Like I said, I'm just in a good mood," she answered, and Charlie noticed a slight blush rising to her cheeks.

"What, you getting laid?" He said it jokingly, but her cheeks grew redder and she glanced over her shoulder at Marina, who was packing up for the day.

"Don't talk so loud," she mumbled, falling slightly out of sync with him and dropping his hand.

"Seriously, you are? Who?" He knew she had gone on one or two dates back in April, but she hadn't told him about any new boyfriends. Charlie was always the first to know when Meryl started seeing someone new; he couldn't imagine why she'd keep it from him. Unless, it was someone she knew he wouldn't like.

"I'll tell you later. It's still...new."

Charlie didn't badger her for any more information, but watched her curiously as they finished cool-down and headed back to the locker room. She walked ahead of him, keeping her distance, and there was something stiff and awkward in the way she held herself. Since their brief conversation on the ice, Meryl's mood had nose-dived, and she kept quietly to herself as she changed out of her skates, keeping her head down. The expression on her face when she finally looked up was one Charlie recognized all too well; guilt.

"Is it Scott?" He asked tentatively, unsure of who else would be reason enough for Meryl to be so guiltily secretive. Honestly, he couldn't imagine how anyone could be a worse choice than Scott Moir for Meryl, but if he could date Tanith, then he supposed Meryl had every right to Scott.

"What? No, absolutely not, that's ridiculous _,_ " she said, looking mortified at the very idea. "Come on, you know me better than that."

"Yeah, which is why I know there's a reason you're not telling me about this _mystery lover._ " He said.  She slung her bag over her shoulder, brushing past him, and he followed at her heels. "You're my best friend, Mer. You can tell me anything." 

"You're going to make a big deal out of it, and nothing's even official yet," she said, not looking back at him. 

"I promise I won't. But you know if you hide, I'm just going to jump to conclusions and start thinking you're sleeping with a serial killer--"

"It's Fedor," she said, whipping around and sighing with an air of finality. "Ever since he got home a few weeks ago." 

"Fedor," he repeated dumbly, the name sounding thick and clumsy on his tongue. Fedor was Marina's son, a veritable player and mediocre ice dancer. And so, so not right for Meryl. He had dated Tanith and then Tessa, and a string of former partners and students. He could name a dozen reasons off the top of his head why dating their coach's son was an awful idea. But then, he remembered.

_But she's been so happy lately. **He** made her happy. _

Meryl took Charlie's silence to mean disapproval, and she huffed angrily, standing toe to toe with him. 

"You're not allowed to be angry with me," her voice was soft but shrill, wavering almost. "I really like him, and you don't have the right to be disapproving or jealous or possessive--"

"I'm not," he said calmly, biting back a retort as to why exactly Fedor Andreev was the worst news any girl at Arctic Edge could ever come into contact with.

_But he makes her happy._

"I'm a grown woman, Charlie. And I deserve to have my own life, and make my own choices..." She continued, ignoring him.

"You're right, you do." Even if it was a terrible, dangerous choice that would end in heartbreak and tension between them and their coach.

_She's happy._

Meryl looked strangely up at him and took a step back, tilting her head and staring curiously. "You're not mad," she said slowly, her shoulders dropping. "Why aren't you mad?"

He put on the most convincing smile he could muster. "I'm glad you found someone you really like, Mer. It's great news."

"And...you're ok that it's Fedor? I know how you feel about him," she said cautiously, still suspicious.

He wanted to pull her in for a hug and kiss her forehead, but neither would be appropriate anymore. Instead, he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, grinning like an idiot because the alternative was breaking down in front of her.

"As long as you're happy."

* * *

Once Meryl started inviting Fedor to hang out with them all the time, Charlie was reminded of exactly all the reasons why he didn't like the man. But as the summer dragged on, Meryl seemed to become more enamored with him, and it baffled Charlie. Other than skating, he couldn't see what Meryl and Fedor had in common. Their hobbies certainly didn't align; Fedor biked and raced and collected expensive watches and could drone on for hours about his cars; Meryl called it passion, and Charlie called it a childish obsession. Fedor wasn't interested in Meryl's science fiction or fantasy favorites, and seemed more awed at her intelligence than actively engaged with it.

But Charlie had to give him credit there. Everything Meryl did, Fedor regarded with utter enthrallment. He lavished her with attention and praise, proudly showing her off to his racing buddies and bragging about her accomplishments.

"High praise indeed," Tanith said, only slightly bitter. "He's finally found someone he can love almost as much as he loves himself."

Charlie nodded and knocked back the last of his beer. They were at Igor and Marina's annual summer picnic for all of their teams and their families, conveniently located by the lake on which Meryl's parents lived. Alex, Fedor, Evan, and some of the younger boys had started a game of football, dangerously close to the water's edge, but Charlie wasn't in the mood and sat watching with Tanith and Ben on the dock. Now that they were retired, Marina had forgiven Tanith and Ben for leaving her, and welcomed them back with open arms. 

"I wonder who takes longer in the morning doing their hair, Meryl or Fedor," Ben mused, making Tanith snort with laughter.

"Fedor, probably," Charlie replied absently, watching as Fedor tugged Meryl over to join him in the game. "Meryl wakes up with perfect hair." Realizing how that sounded, Charlie was quick to add, "that is, if she even sleeps. I have a theory that she's trained her body not to require sleep so she can study and finish her degree on time."

"That's our Meryl," Tanith said, holding up her glass in a salute. "She'll outlive all of us, and look _fabulous_ doing it."

Tanith and Ben continued to gossip about the skaters they once trained with, but Charlie wasn't paying attention. He was caught in a memory, or several, of Meryl: waking up next to her, the few times she let herself spend the night with him. Her hair would fan across the pillow and tickle his face, feeling like silk between his fingers. Sometimes, he would guiltily find that he had knotted her perfect tresses in his sleep, and would comb his fingers through to loosen the tangles.

Thoughts like this had become less frequent lately, but they still hit him like a freight train, leaving him cold and bruised from the recollection. But all it took was a look at Meryl's face to remind him of how much _better_ they were now; she was happy and carefree and _loved_ , and that was all he could hope for her. Perhaps he wasn't as happy as he thought he would be this time last year, but Tanith was great and everyone said they were _so good together._

Charlie focused his attention back to the present, to Meryl playing kicker and lobbing the football way off course. Charlie grinned and shouted out to her, _Nice kick, Meryl!_ but she didn't hear him, as Fedor had picked her up and tossed her into the lake, yelping with surprise. She landed with a loud splash, just below Charlie's field of vision on the dock.

Charlie bolted up out of his seat to stand on the dock's edge, waiting for Meryl to emerge from the depths. She did, sputtering and coughing up lake water, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief.

"She could have hit her head on the dock, you idiot," Charlie seethed towards Fedor, bending down to help Meryl, who was up to her neck in the water. She rubbed at her eyes, dark with running mascara.

"You looked hot, babe. I thought you might need to cool down!" Fedor shouted, bearing a lopsided grin.

"Ass," she muttered, reaching her arms up and letting Charlie lift her out of the lake.

"Are you ok?" Charlie asked, steadying her as her feet touched the dock. She was soaked through, and Charlie forcefully averted his eyes from her wet form, the light blue tank top almost translucent and clinging obscenely to her skin.

Meryl nodded and wrung out her hair. "Yeah, just wet and cold. Thanks, Fedor," she said sarcastically, as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Fedor only looked slightly apologetic, and Charlie wanted to slap the smirk off his stupidly handsome face.

"Sorry. Walnut Lake looks good on you, babe," he said, turning her in his arms and smoothing his hands down her back. He kissed her, and Charlie turned away quickly, unable to watch Meryl forgive Fedor so easily, falling right back into his arms.

"Fedor! You do not _throw_ my little flower!" Marina shouted from the circle of lawn chairs with her skaters' parents. "You act like stupid teenage boy!"

Fedor groaned and pulled away from Meryl, keeping his hand dangerously low on her back. "Yes, Mama. I'm sorry." 

_Thank you, Marina._

 

* * *

 

At dinner that night, Charlie had the misfortune of being seated between Tanith and Meryl, caught in the uncomfortable situation of literally having to turn his back on one to pay attention to the other. It was only fitting, he supposed.

Igor was retelling some embarrassing competition story from Meryl and Charlie's first days as Seniors, but Charlie couldn't tear his attention away from Meryl and the way her shoulder bumped his and how she accidentally grazed his arm with her fingertips. Even the smallest amount of contact was too much for him right now, and he scooted his chair slightly away from hers.

"Charlie, can you pass the potato salad?" Meryl asked, touching his wrist softly. Charlie yanked his arm away with more force than necessary.

"Uh yeah, here..." he said, handing her the bowl. Fedor had slung his arm around Meryl's shoulder, and Charlie's gaze drifted from Fedor's hand to Meryl's collarbone, conspicuously bare.

Since they had won Worlds, Meryl had not removed the necklace Charlie had given her as a commemoration, a silver keyhole pendant. He could have sworn that she was wearing it earlier today and didn't remember when she could have taken it off.

"Mer, your necklace...where is it?" Charlie asked, extending a shaky finger towards her.

Meryl looked down, clutching at her bare throat and glancing back up at him with wide eyes. "Oh my God, I lost it."

"What did you lose, sweetie?" Cheryl called from the other end of the table.

"My necklace. It must have fallen off when Fedor...when I fell into the lake," she said, biting her lip and looking utterly devastated. "Charlie, I'm so sorry. I should have taken better care of it--" she started, turning to Charlie with watery eyes.

"It's alright, it's just...it's just a necklace," he assured her, squeezing her hand briefly. "And it's not your fault."

_It's Fedor's._

"Aw, I'm sorry Meryl. That was a pretty necklace. I can buy you a new one, exactly the same," Fedor said, tightening his grip around Meryl's shoulder. Charlie scowled and turned away.

_As if it'd mean half as much to her from Fedor._

Charlie tried to banish the petty thoughts from his mind, but he couldn't help resenting Fedor and his stupidity. That necklace had _meant_ something to both him and Meryl, even if he wasn't exactly sure what that was. The symbolism of the keyhole was cryptic but fitting.

_Would it be weird now, to buy her jewelry when she has a boyfriend?_

Conversation shifted away from Meryl and her lost necklace as Fedor gushed about the new car he had bought, but Meryl kept her hand at the base of her throat, looking distraught.

Right then, Charlie made up his mind. He wasn't going to need to buy her a new necklace, because he was going to find her old one.

* * *

After everyone had parted ways for night, Charlie kissed Tanith goodbye, telling her that he needed to collect a few things by the shore and would see her tomorrow. Charlie found the waterproof flashlight Meryl insisted he keep in his car in case of emergency and stripped down to his shorts.

He knew it was probably hopeless, looking for a tiny necklace in the dark, when it had probably sunk to the depths of the lake, but for some reason, he felt like he had to do it. As if it would prove something.

He lowered himself carefully into the water off the dock into the shallow end, tightly gripping the flashlight. The water was colder than he expected, and he hissed in shock as the water lapped against his legs. The best case scenario was that the necklace had washed up against the rocks, so that's where he started. Charlie swept the rocks slowly with his flashlight, looking into all the nooks and crannies, and feeling around under water on the pebbled floor.

Thankfully, the moon was bright and the porch lights from the nearby houses were casting a dim glow, adding to the flashlight's beam. He probably looked ridiculous, standing shirtless in the cold lake, feeling around on the rocks like a blind man, but he didn't care. He was going to find it.

After sweeping the immediate shoreline several times, Charlie started to just blindly dive under water to grope around with his hands and feet, tangling himself in algae and getting mud stuck between his toes. The water was only getting colder, but Charlie kept at it, getting more and more frantic as the minutes turned into an hour, and then another.

Soon, it stopped being about just finding a necklace. It was about proving that he could still make her happy, as if finding a piece of sterling silver would in turn recover what they had lost over the past several months.

Emerging from underwater once more, Charlie wondered if he should resume the search the next night. His eyes were stinging and he was starting to shiver from the cold. Feeling defeated, Charlie took his flashlight for one last sweep of the area, illuminating the wood beams below the dock. There, something caught on a support beam reflected the light, and Charlie raced over. Shining the light up under the dock, Charlie felt a wave of joy and relief wash over him.

There it was, caught so perfectly between two planks of wood; Meryl's necklace was whole and intact. He took the necklace in his hand and pressed it to his lips.

_Finally._

* * *

As Charlie rang the bell to Meryl's condo, a terrifying thought occurred to him; what if Fedor was with her? He knew they weren't living together yet, but there was no reason why Fedor couldn't have stayed the night. There was no innocent way to explain what he had done, spending hours in the dark, cold lake to recover Meryl's necklace. Fedor would take it the wrong way--the right way?--and Charlie would once again ruin the one good thing Meryl had.

Meryl opened the door and blinked at him drowsily, tilting her head as if trying to figure out if he was real. She was dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top, with a robe hastily thrown around her.

"Is Fedor with you?" Charlie asked immediately, not meaning to sound so blunt.

Meryl stared at him and shook her head. "No, he went home. Charlie, what's wrong? Do you need to come in?"

"Yes." He brushed past her and into her place, standing in the center of her small living room.

Meryl flicked on the lights and gasped as she took him in, damp and dripping on her carpet. "Charlie, why are you all wet? What _happened?_ "

Charlie wasn't sure how to explain the past few hours, so instead he just reached into his pocket and took out the necklace, letting it dangle between his fingers. Meryl's eyes widened, looking at the necklace and back at him in shock.

"I found it," he said simply, crossing the floor between them and dropping it in her outstretched hand.

She stared at it, dumbfounded, turning it over in her hand as if she didn't believe it was the same necklace. Finally, she looked up at him to speak. "You--the lake--for me?" She was incoherent, but Charlie understood and he nodded.

"Are you happy?"

In reply, she gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged him down to her, pressing her lips against his with a bruising force. His hands fluttered at her side helplessly, not wanting to encourage her when he knew she would regret this as soon as she stepped away.

But he wanted to touch her so, so badly.

Meryl opened her mouth to him, slipping her tongue past his lips, and Charlie gave in, just a little. He knotted his fingers in her hair ( _her perfect hair)_ and followed Meryl's lead, not backing away but not deepening the kiss further. He reveled in the momentary bliss, knowing that it was all going to be over soon. Sure enough, she loosened her grip on his collar and broke away, taking a deep breath. She hesitated, keeping her eyes closed, and Charlie took the opportunity to place one last, gentle kiss on her lips.

"Thank you," she said, opening her eyes. He didn't know if she was thanking him for the necklace or for the kiss. Perhaps both.

He nodded and she offered the necklace to him wordlessly. He understood and stepped behind her, sweeping her hair to one side. Placing the necklace back in its rightful place around her, his fingers lingered at the base of her neck. He wanted to kiss there, kiss _everywhere,_ but he stopped himself.

"There. Much better," he croaked, stepping back to look at her. "Well, I should go."

Tonight was going to be one of those nights that they wouldn't talk about again; they would pretend the kiss never happened, pretend that Charlie hadn't just spent hours in the lake, in the dark, looking for Meryl's necklace.

Meryl walked him to the door but before he left, he turned to face her, reaching to take hold of her hand. "Are you happy?" He asked again, having not received a complete answer earlier.

She looked like she wanted to cry, so she just nodded and squeezed his hand wordlessly.

"Good. That's all I want."

 


	10. hard to be faithful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has officially upped ratings because...yeah. Things get explicit here. Also, sad. Explicit and sad. I'm sorry (but I'm kinda not.) Thanks for reading!

**February, 2012  
**

"Well it doesn't matter to me either!" Charlie yelled into his phone, just as the other line went dead. Again.

This was the third phone call in as many days that had ended in Charlie and Tanith screaming at each other. Perhaps the stress of the season was getting to him, and her by extension, but they'd been at each other's throats for weeks now. Their arguments, over the smallest things, were explosive, and Charlie told himself that it was because they were so _passionate._ Passionate about each other, about making this work... But it wasn't working, not when they couldn't even discuss their day without flying off the handle.

Tanith had declined coming to Colorado Springs with him for the Four Continents Championship, which was probably the most reasonable thing she'd done lately. Charlie was stressed enough as it was; adding Tanith to the mix when they were going through a volatile rough patch would have made him anxious  _and_ angry.

Charlie stuffed his phone back in his pocket and turned, kicking the wall behind him. Behind him, Meryl coughed, and he whipped around, guilty.

"Sorry, I forgot you were there."

"It _is_ my hotel room," she said, sitting criss-crossed on her bed, a magazine open on her lap.

They had come to her room after the short dance, where they had narrowly pulled ahead of Tessa and Scott. Worlds was a month away, and everyone was saying that whoever won at 4CC, would almost definitely go on to win in Nice, France. They were both feeling the pressure, and had quarantined themselves away from the other skaters, not risking any distractions. It didn't escape Charlie's attention that this followed the pattern they had set so many times before; the competition, the pressure, the hotel room. When Tanith called, he had jumped to answer it, thinking he could break the vicious cycle.

 _Because we're not like that anymore_ , Charlie reassured himself. _That's not even an option now._

"So, I take it you're not spending the weekend with her in Ontario?" Meryl asked, and he couldn't even be mad at her for listening in to his conversation. That's what he got, for taking a call from his girlfriend while Meryl sat across the room.

"Of course not. Worlds is in a month; I don't have time to spend my weekends with my girlfriend's family, _who don't even like me,_ by the way." Tanith was going to her family reunion, and Charlie wasn't masochistic enough to subject himself to that train wreck.

"I don't know, the argument was dumb," Charlie sighed, leaning against the wall.

Meryl laughed. "No dumber than the last one, with the paint..."

Charlie threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "Who paints their kitchen purple? That's the most _unappetizing_ color--" he ranted, but stopped himself before he could relive that particularly stupid fight. "I don't know what's been wrong with us lately. We fight about _everything._ Tanith actually suggested we take a break, but I don't know if she was serious."

Meryl shrugged. "Maybe you should. That's what Fedor and I do."

"Wait, seriously?" Charlie had never heard that before. Meryl and Fedor seemed to be doing just fine all year, although Charlie saw the other man less and less as the season progressed. He had only assumed that his partner's relationship was holding up, and figured Meryl would have told him otherwise.

"Yeah, just for a few days, every now and then. It always seems to help, giving ourselves a little room to breathe. He can be suffocating sometimes," she said offhandedly, flipping a page in her magazine.

"So you just...break up for a few days, sleep with other people, and get back together? And it _works?_ " Charlie asked incredulously.

" _He_ might sleep around. I don't know, I've never asked. I'd rather not know."

Charlie shook his head in disbelief. Even for the brief period when he and Meryl had fooled around behind her boyfriend's back, the guilt almost drove her insane. She was exclusive with her affection, and expected the same in return, not liking to share or be shared. But now she was ok with, and was apparently _thriving_ in some on-again off-again, surely dysfunctional relationship.

But then, Meryl always had a thing for dysfunction.

"Are you...on a break now?" Charlie asked, his voice practically a squeak.

"Usually am, when I'm at a competition. Makes it easier, being apart."

Charlie suddenly felt hyperaware of his surroundings, of the implication of what she had just said. He had been so sure, _so content,_ with the knowledge that they were both in relationships--stable, healthyrelationships. They were supposed to be happy with the people they had chosen; that was the one thing stopping them, wasn't it? Meryl's happiness was what made him pull back when they practiced and their lips brushed too close, and her happiness was more important than how much Charlie couldn't stand Fedor. But then, Meryl's happiness seemed to be a lot more mercurial than it once was.

Charlie swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. "Are you happy?" He asked, like he had so many times before.

Meryl shrugged and flipped another page, not even looking at the magazine. "I'm fine."

Charlie felt his stomach drop.

* * *

 "I hate Colorado," Charlie wheezed, as soon as _Die Fledermaus_ drew to a close and the crowd rose to their feet in appreciation. Charlie hardly heard the applause, only the ringing in his ears and the sound of his own pathetic asthmatic wheezes. 

4CC was in Colorado Springs, and the altitude paired with their already exhausting free dance was toxic for his lungs. They hadn't made any noticeable mistakes that Charlie recalled, but then, he had really just been focusing on _not collapsing._

"I know, sweetie," Meryl cooed, touching her forehead against his and rubbing his back. "Relax, and breathe through your nose. I've got you."

When Charlie was injured or suffering an asthmatic episode, Meryl might as well have been his second mother, the way she babied him.

"I'm good, I'm good, I'm---not good." Charlie stumbled over his own skates as they glided back to the boards, and she wrapped her arm around his waist to support him, patting his abdomen and murmuring soft encouragement.

"You did so well; I'm so proud of you."

Marina and Igor greeted them both with hugs, but their smiles were tight, and Charlie knew that they didn't skate their best. Tessa and Scott's free dance had been fantastic, so he was calling it now; they were going to be in second.

"You ok? You breathing?" Igor asked, handing Charlie his guards.

"I need to sit down." He was still struggling to force air into his lungs, and the thin Colorado air was making him dizzy.

The cameras in the kiss and cry were focused from their waist up, so Meryl locked her foot around his ankle and rubbed his back soothingly. It wasn't a scandalous gesture, but it was intimate, and Charlie appreciated the contact.

Sure enough, they placed second, ending their winning streak of the past year. Even though he predicted their silver finish, the realization that they were _second-best_ once more, knocked the air right back out of him. It should have made him feel better to know that his asthma, something so out of his control, was a heavy factor in their loss, but it just made him feel worse. Helpless.

"Drink some water, Charlie. Where's your inhaler?" Meryl asked, as they got up to leave the kiss and cry. She kept her arm looped through his and walked with him slowly, as if guiding him.

"Back at the hotel. And I'm asthmatic, Meryl. Not blind," he grumbled, but didn't move to take back his arm.

"You really should have it with you, you know that," she scolded lightly, as an attendant gestured for them to congregate for the medal ceremony. "But it's fine. I have your extra inhaler in my purse. Can you make it through the ceremony?"

" _Yes,_ _Meryl,_ " he insisted, sharper than he had intended.

He hated it when Meryl fawned over him; it made him feel weak. But then, a part of him loved the attention, loved the feeling of being loved. Charlie was starting to realize that with Meryl, weakness and love went hand in hand, more often than not. 

* * *

 

After the awards ceremony, Meryl, Charlie, and Marina had met in Meryl's room to go over the day's performance and finalize their plans for the gala tomorrow night. Marina had pointed out areas where they "lacked control," and Charlie grunted in reply.

"Well yeah, I couldn't control my lungs right there either."

Eventually recognizing that neither Meryl nor Charlie were up to picking apart their second place program, Marina quickly left them to their own devices.

"Maybe you should make an appointment with the pulmonologist, Charlie," Meryl said, turning her head to face him while lying on her stomach on her bed.

Meryl hadn't been as careful as she usually was with their rotational lift, and her back was sore. Charlie had been so caught up with himself, he hadn't even asked how Meryl was faring.

"Yeah, maybe. We won't have this problem in Nice, though. The altitude is normal there."

Meryl sighed, arcing her back until he could hear it audibly crack. "You should still get checked out, though. Your asthma has never been this bad, and we've competed at high altitude before. It could be a sign of an underlying problem," she warned, relaxing back on the bed. Charlie resisted the urge to brush her hair over one of her shoulders.

"You don't need to worry about me, Mer," he promised her, but she shook her head.

"I always worry about you."

Without thinking, Charlie rested his hand on the back of her leg, below the knee. It wasn't exactly sensual, and he had touched her in much, much more intimate ways, but it made her shiver and Charlie delighted at the brief, involuntary movement. Knowing that he was taking a risk, he slid his hand further up her leg, in the hollow behind her knee, and she shuddered again, but remained silent.

"It always baffled me, how I could touch you basically everywhere on the ice and you'd be fine, but then you're so sensitive off ice..." he murmured absently, tracing a circle over her bare skin. "It's all about intent, I guess."

What is your intent?" Meryl asked softly, looking back at him curiously.

Charlie stared at her exposed leg, wrestling with his conscience. He knew what he should do; remove himself from the situation. But he knew what he wanted to do, and what he was absolutely too weak to stop.

"Give me...two minutes. I need to call my mom back," he told her, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Now?"

"Uh, yeah. Two minutes."

Charlie jumped off the bed and ran out of the room, whipping his phone out of his pocket. He knew Tanith was out with friends and probably wouldn't answer her phone, but he dialed her number anyway. When he reached her voicemail, he took a deep breath before leaving a message.

"Hey, Tan. It's me. I know things have been rough lately, and I was thinking..." Charlie cleared his throat, thinking he probably should have rehearsed this beforehand. "Well, remember when you suggested we take a break? Like...a breather? Yeah, I think that might be a good idea. Just...just temporary. Ok, so...yeah, that's it. I hope you're having a good night. Call me back when you get the chance."

It wasn't ideal, but it was something, and Charlie convinced himself that it wouldn't technically be cheating. He ended the call and hesitated before turning the phone off. The guilt would eat away at him later; for now, he was focusing on _her._

Charlie returned to the room, where Meryl had gotten up and was standing in front of the window. She had turned the television off, and the room was lit only by the single, dim lamp. Outside, the night was pitch black and starless.

"I feel like I'm 20 again," she said simply, and he walked up carefully behind her.

"Doing something you know you shouldn't?" He asked cautiously, and she shook her head.

"Doing something because it feels right. Because I want to, not because I have to." Meryl looked over her shoulder at him, and he swore he almost melted right there. That look, the one she saved just for him, just for when they did _this..._ it was somewhere between love and lust, and Charlie wanted to curl up and live forever in that in-between space.

She turned around and he reached for her instinctively, his hands moving to cup her face gently. "This feels right," he said, and she nodded.

"It does."

 

He stared at her lips before flickering his eyes up to meet hers. She smiled, and that was all the encouragement he needed. Not so gently, he crashed his lips over hers, pulling her flush against him. There was no time for the slow, gradual descent; he wanted to _devour_ her, breathe her in and make up for the years spent without her.

Their teeth knocked together, and he swiped his tongue messily into her mouth, stroking the sides of her face with his thumbs. She tasted exactly how she did months ago, when he showed up at her house in the middle of the night with her necklace. She tasted only slightly different than she did years ago, during their first time, during her cherry chapstick phase.

 

"Charlie," she gasped, as Charlie dragged his mouth down her throat, his teeth scraping her delicate skin. _"Tanith._ " 

She didn't need to know the whole story, not now, not when they were _so close._

"We're on a break," he choked out, and silenced her by slotting his mouth over hers, feeling like he _needed_ this, to drink her in so fully. To be, _finally,_ in control of the situation.

He had been denying himself of her for _months,_ and now she was willing and he was eager, and the dams broke free with nuclear force. They had always been nuclear, he thought, one split atom away from consuming each other whole. 

He pinned her wrists to the wall as he kissed her, but then changed his mind, releasing her hands and moaning into her mouth as she dug her fingers into his scalp. He had missed this, and in the moment, wasn't sure how he had survived so long without it. 

"Do you want me to...?" He asked, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes.

"God, yes. Everything. I want everything," she said breathlessly, yanking him back down to kiss her as she scrambled to hook her leg around his hip.

"Greedy," he mumbled, grabbing her other leg and hoisting her up. He palmed her ass and she squeaked, twisting her fingers almost painfully in his hair. He loved it. If Meryl wanted everything, he would give her _everything._

Laying her down on the bed, he stepped back and looked at her, memorizing the sight of her. Flushed and flustered, she reached out to him with needy hands, tugging at his shirt. Knowing what she wanted, he quickly disposed of his shirt and her fingernails raked down his abdomen, followed next by her lips.

She was going to _kill_ him.

He pushed her back against the pillows, attaching his mouth to her neck and sucking roughly. His hands slid up beneath her shirt, and she arced off the bed.

"Off, off," she muttered, pushing Charlie away briefly so she could rip her shirt over her head and unclasp her bra. She was wasting no time, and Charlie wasn't about to complain. They had wasted enough time over the past year. Right now, as far as he was concerned, every moment spent not touching Meryl was a moment utterly squandered.

He teased her breasts with the pads of his fingers, barely touching her and making her squirm with anticipation. When he finally covered the tips with his mouth, she moaned loudly and arched her back. She was so sensitive, and Charlie was almost giddy with the power it gave him.

Maybe that was all this was; a power play, proof that when they were together, their roles could reverse and Meryl could relinquish the control she held onto so tightly. But he wasn't any more in control of the situation than a storm chaser and a tornado. 

He lapped and sucked at her breasts until she was panting, pulling him back up to kiss her. His hands stroked her sides as his mouth plundered hers, drawing out involuntary moans that vibrated against his teeth. His hands crept to her shorts, sliding them down slowly without breaking the kiss. 

Meryl squirmed and kicked her shorts off her ankles and practically pushed him down lower. Charlie laughed and rolled her underwear off, kissing down her leg and then back up.

"Can I--"

"Please," she begged him, and his eyes lit up.

He stroked one finger down the length of her opening, followed closely by his tongue, and she yelped shrilly. Her reaction startled him, and he looked at her for reassurance.

"Are you ok? You've never been _that_ sensitive."

Meryl, breathing heavily, nodded and yanked his head back down. "Haven't....had anyone do this....in a while," she panted, as he circled her clit with his tongue.

"Seriously? Fedor...?" He asked, looking back up at her incredulously.

She groaned and squirmed beneath him, frustrated. "Not into oral."

"Asshole," he muttered, before returning his mouth between her legs, lapping at her folds until she started to curse. He loved it when she cursed.

"Fuck, yes. Right there. Oh god, _oh,_ " she gasped, as Charlie thrust his fingers into her without warning, making her cries grow louder, longer, _perfect._

"Right, right there--fuck, fuck, yes, don't stop..." she was getting close, and Charlie had to use his free hand to hold her hips down on the bed as she arched uncontrollably. 

Glancing up, he almost came just from the look on her face; complete and utter rapture. He thought he could do this forever, watching Meryl suspended on the brink of orgasm, but that would be cruel, and there truly was _nothing_ better than the moment when he sucked her clit into his mouth, hard, and hooked his fingers _just right,_ and she shattered like glass; explosively, all at once.

"oh-- _Charlie!"_

She was still trembling when Charlie kissed up her body, trailing between her breasts and up her throat to her lips. She moaned happily and drew back.

"That was nice," she said dreamily, and Charlie laughed.

"Just nice?"

" _Really nice._ "

He leaned down to kiss her again, and she pushed at his chest lightly. "Are you sure you're ok?" She asked, hesitation clouding her eyes. 

He looked at her, confused. "Yeah?"

"I mean with Tanith. You've been together so long...it has to hurt, even a little, even just being on a break..." she lowered her eyes, and Charlie let out a slow exhale.

Nuzzling her throat to avoid looking at her, he spoke quietly. "We haven't actually talked about it yet. I...I called her, before. Left a message..."

Meryl froze, her fingers in his hair stilling.

"What?" Her voice was low, almost cold. "You _left a message?_ "

Charlie gulped, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw. "I didn't have time...she was the one who brought it up, a few days ago. She suggested--"

"Get off of me."

Charlie looked up at her in surprise, stung by the chill in her voice.

"Mer?"

"Get. Off." She pushed at his shoulder and he scrambled to get off the bed, putting his hands up in the air.

"I'm sorry, what did I do?" He asked frantically, as Meryl started grabbing clothes from the foot of the bed. She whipped around to face him, anger radiating off her in waves.

"You broke up with your girlfriend through _a voicemail_ so you could _fuck me._ " she bit, and he took a frightened step backward.

"I didn't _break up with her_."

"A _voicemail!_ " she cried, and he winced.

"There wasn't time," he repeated softly, and she stared at him coldly, shaking her head in disgust.

"You're an asshole."

"Meryl, please. I wasn't thinking, I just...I _wanted_ \--"

"I don't give a _fuck_ what you wanted," Meryl snapped, yanking her shirt over her head and throwing Charlie's shirt at his chest. "You can't have everything you want. You can't have every _girl_ you want."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but Meryl's steely focus didn't break.

"Go. And don't touch me again."

So Charlie did as he was told, because he wasn't in control; Meryl was. She was the one who turned her back and finished dressing in silence as he slunk out of the room, who washed her makeup off her face and him from her hands. She was the one who probably called her boyfriend right then, and told him she loved him. Charlie returned to his room, and he was the one who cried, who finally realized he had long ago ceded control to Meryl, the woman who now wanted nothing to do with him.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. But then, they had both always had a thing for dysfunction.

 

 


End file.
